


A New Kind of Evil

by Sam_Eller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Fatherly Bobby, Gen, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean, Teenchesters, Weechesters, sam and dean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 87,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Eller/pseuds/Sam_Eller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wasn't choking on food, but a memory, one so dark and so violent that my body was physically rejecting the recollection. Sammy's face was frozen in a look of abject horror, a look I had sworn would never again obstruct his features." Sam and Dean discover that not all evil is supernatural; in fact the darkest evil of them all is of a human nature. Hurt/Sam, Protective/Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Note: This story can be read independently or as a sequel to The Aftermath, and it also has a small connection to Frostbite. It is set post Skin 1x06.

Warning: Mentions of the molestation of a child, but not in great detail.

* * *

"No, no wendigos."

"Come on Dean."

"What did I say Sam?"

"Yeah but..."

"I said a simple hunt. It's either that or no hunt at all, which I'm starting to think is the better plan."

"Dean, don't be ridiculous I can handle it." Sam sighed in exasperation.

"You're the one being ridiculous! You got your ass kicked by that shifter less than a week ago. You haven't slept well, your back is still a mess, and you practically have a heart attack whenever someone comes up behind you." I reasoned gently. I wanted to prove my point without insulting or offending my little brother.

"Stop being so dramatic." Sam dismissed.

"Dramatic? Dramatic was you this morning when Bobby tapped you on the shoulder to give you coffee and you practically jumped out of the chair."

"He just startled me, that was all."

"I know Sam. I get that you would be a little jumpy after what happened. You got beat to hell little brother, which is why I want you to take more time to fully recover before we get involved in another hunt."

"I know that, but I am doing a lot better, and I can handle it. Besides I'm getting restless, we need to do something."

I nodded in understanding, because even though it had only been a week I was also feeling the itch to get moving. But I was more than willing to ignore that itch because I knew my little brother was still hurting.

"Yeah I get that, that's why I said you could choose a hunt, but it has to be a simple salt and burn or something." I compromised.

"There's no such thing as a simple salt and burn."

Sam startled at the sudden entrance of the older hunter; settling immediately after realizing his mistake and looking down at the table in embarrassment. I placed my hand on Sam's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze in support.

"Balls, sorry Sam." Bobby apologized with a look of frustration, no doubt towards himself.

Sam threw a forgiving smile Bobby's way and then looked back down at his computer screen, letting his hair fall before his face. This same situation had occurred multiple times throughout the week. Every time I was left trying to convince Sam that there was no reason for him to feel ashamed, that anyone who had to go through what he did had every right to be a little jumpy.

"You boys looking for a hunt?" Bobby asked; eager to move past the awkwardness.

"Apparently, but something simple; nothing too strenuous." I said, twitching my head in my little brother's direction in explanation.

"Well I'll keep an ear out." He responded. "You boys want something to eat?"

"Yeah I could eat." I admitted.

"Well than get your ass up and help me make some breakfast. I ain't your maid." Bobby grumbled, gathering supplies from the fridge.

"Yes sir." I laughed, pushing back from the table and getting to my feet.

"I've got some bacon, sausage, bread for toast, and eggs. Sound good?"

As Bobby and I cooked up a big breakfast, Sam sat hunched over her computer in search of a hunt.

"Alright Sam clear off the table." I instructed, filling three plates full of food.

Bobby filled three mugs of coffee and set them on the table, I followed with breakfast. I placed a plate full of food in front of the older hunter and myself and then set a plate of eggs before my little brother.

"Uh what's with this?" Sam asked, looking at me with an unimpressed expression.

"Those would be eggs, scrambled just the way you like them." I replied with an innocent smile.

"Yeah I see that, but how come all I have is eggs?" Sam questioned, looking between Bobby and I, the older man simply shrugged and started eating.

"Because your throat is still healing."

"It's still a little raw, but I can eat real food."

"Eggs are real food, and they go down a lot nicer. And in case you don't recall, we tried toast yesterday and you hacked for like an hour." I reminded.

Sam huffed in annoyance and slowly began to pick at his breakfast.

I figured by this point in time I should have accepted the fact that my little brother would never be a hearty eater, but it was just a matter I could never let drop.

"And because all you're getting is eggs I expect you to eat that plate clean." I declared.

Sam threw an irritated glare my way, one that told me he would eat as much as he damn well pleased. I shook my head, trying to get that kid to eat a decent amount of food always felt like fighting a losing battle.

True to form, Sam was the last one to finish his breakfast and by the time he pushed his plate away there was still food on it. I was about to put that out, but watching the young man squirm around in his chair uneasily made it clear to me that he had been sitting too long and his back was paying for it.

Sam stood slowly and started to clean up before I stopped him.

"Don't worry about the dishes. I got it covered."

I was surprised not to get an argument, which attested to how sore the kid must have been.

"I'm going to grab a shower." Sam informed us, stiffly making his way up the stairs. I watched him go; being sure he wasn't going to need any help before gathering the dishes.

"I swear he does that just to piss me off." I griped, staring at the egg remaining on my kid brother's plate.

"That's the most I've seen him eat in one sitting since the two of you showed up." Bobby pointed out as he began to clean up.

"That's not saying much." I mumbled.

"Well he's still healing Dean, plus it's not like the boy was ever much of an eater, you were always the one who would clean me right out whenever the two of you came to stay, even as kids."

"That's your own fault Bobby. You always had the best food."

"Yeah well I'd stalk up on it if I knew you two were on your way. Never did agree with the way your Dad fed you kids." The older hunter grumbled with a shake of his head.

I could make no objection. John Winchester wasn't much of a cook even if he had been around enough to do it. He also wasn't a big fan of spending money on quality food, never much seeing the point in it because there was no pay off in that sort of investment. The man believed that the purpose of food was to keep you alive, so he bought what was cheap and easy, however unappealing it may have been.

"You want to wash or dry?"

I was about to answer Bobby when I heard Sam call for me. I held one finger up to the older hunter, indicating that I would only be a minute as I sprinted up the stairs.

The call didn't sound urgent or as though it was made in distress, but any holler from my little brother always sent me running.

I got to the top of the stairs and could hear the shower running so I knocked on the bathroom door.

"What's up Sammy?" I asked from outside.

A second later the door was opened for me and I entered the bathroom to see my younger brother standing there fully clothed looking like a lost puppy.

"I…I need some help." Sam stuttered out awkwardly, biting his lip, his gaze focused down at his feet.

"With what?" I asked.

"My shirt." Sam muttered quietly.

It took a second for me to realize what the kid was getting at. Then I noticed how he was tugging gently at the bottom of his t-shirt.

My little brother couldn't get his shirt off. I wondered for a minute how he'd been dressing and undressing himself all week, but thinking back I recalled that all week he'd been wearing button-up plaid shirts and zip-up sweaters. This was the first day since we got here that he had put on a pullover shirt, and apparently it's easier to put on than get off.

"Alright man, no worries." I said, making a point to be casual so he wouldn't feel so embarrassed.

"I tried. I just couldn't get my arms…" Sam faded off, hiding under his bangs.

"It's not a big deal."

I took a step closer towards my little brother, grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt and slowly rolling it up, realizing just when I was about to tell Sam to put his arms up that he couldn't.

"Sit on the toilet seat. I'm not tall enough for this sasquatch." I joked, guiding him towards the toilet, kicking the lid closed and gently pushing him down.

Sam released a low moan as he sat.

"Now put your arms out forward, I'm going to pull this over your head and then slide it off your arms." I explained patiently.

Sam obeyed immediately, stretching his arms out in front of him as I slowly pulled the shirt over top of his head.

"So much girly hair." I teased as I pulled the neck of the clothing over his head, messing up his long brown locks.

"Shut-up." He threw back not unkindly.

"There we go." I said, sliding the t-shirt off my brother's arms and dropping it on the bathroom counter, knowing that throwing it on the floor would mean that Sam had to bend down to pick it up again.

"Thanks." Sam groaned quietly as he came to stand.

"Anytime kiddo." I smiled genuinely, feeling content with the small Sammy smirk I got in return. As I opened the door and went to leave the room I glanced back over my shoulder and came to a halt.

"Fuck Sammy." I swore after getting a good view of his back.

I had examined it after that shifter kicked my brother's ass and then again once we arrived at Bobby's, but Sam had been hiding it from me for the past week, probably because I had just recently been able to touch him without making him flinch.

"It's not that bad, really, I can barely feel it."

"Yeah that's why you couldn't even take your shirt off. Cut the bullshit Sam." I admonished, gently turning him around so I could get a better look.

"Shit buddy, why didn't you tell me it was still this bad?"

"You cut the bullshit Dean, you know exactly why I didn't say anything." Sam said, his voice rising in frustration.

"Because you're too fricken stubborn?"

"No, because no matter how many times I try and tell you that what happened wasn't your fault, I know you still feel guilty. And the last thing I want to do is rub your face in it by whining about how screwed up my back is every other minute."

I should have known. Should have figured Sam would be his stupidly considerate self and worry about me when he was the one in pain.

"I'm not a sensitive little girl Sam, I don't need you protecting my feelings." I said as I gently skimmed my hand over the dark bruises coding my kid brother's back. Sam sucked in a breath as my fingers trailed over a particularly nasty looking cluster of bruises up by his shoulder blade. No wonder the kid couldn't lift his arms over his head. I'm surprised he could move them at all.

"This isn't looking much better than it was a week ago." I muttered, moving to stand in front of Sam and carefully feeling along his two healing ribs.

He flinched a little at the one, but that was the only reaction he gave.

"Well at least these are doing better. One of them needs a little more time though." I assessed. "Your face is looking a lot better, and the bruise on your neck has faded a lot."

"I know Dean. I looked in the mirror this morning."

"You're telling me you saw that mess of hair and didn't do anything about it?" I cracked, smirking at the bitch face the comment got me.

"Can I shower now? Or do you want to stand in the bathroom and feel me up a little longer?" Sam questioned with a smile.

"Oh gross, you're sick man, just sick." I accused in disgust, hearing my little brother snickering as I left the room and shut the door behind me.

"Everything good?" Bobby asked as I arrived down stairs.

"Yeah he's alright. Beat to hell and being a moron about it, but he'll be fine."

"You really want to take him on a hunt in his condition?" Bobby questioned a second later as I started drying the dishes.

"Hell no." At the older hunter's inquisitive look I continued. "He's the one who keeps pushing the hunt."

The man beside me raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"What? The kid is getting restless."

"No, your brother doesn't get restless Dean. Sam could spend months sitting on that shitty couch with his nose in a book."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but for the last two days the kid has been bitching about getting back on the road."

"Hmmm." Bobby hummed. I stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"What's with the hmm?"

"Sam isn't the one getting restless Dean, you are."

I opened my mouth to argue the accusation, but didn't get the chance.

"Don't try and deny it boy. You're running out of cars to fix and you've been pacing around this house like a caged animal. You're bored. And if I picked up on it, you can bet your ass that Sam did."

"So what, I'm bored. What does that have to do with Sam harassing me to go on a hunt?"

"My god you are dense in the skull boy. That kid wants you to be happy. He knows that you have had a hard week. He knows you're beating yourself up over what happened to him and he wants things to go back to normal."

"Ha! Normal, what the hell is normal anymore?" I thought aloud.

"You're on your own with that one kid." The older hunter finished washing the last dish and made his exit.

I stood drying dishes as my mind wandered, well it didn't do much wandering actually, it stayed focused one topic, one little brother.

One little brother who spends far too much time worrying about me and not enough taking care of himself. A little brother who is in pain and traumatized and still puts my needs before his own. A little brother who needed a serious talking to. The same little brother who shuffled into the room just as I was drying the last plate.

He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a zip-up sweater, clearly not wanting to try and manoeuvre himself into another pullover shirt.

I smirked at Sam as he looked over at me.

"What?"

"Dude you look like a drowned rat, you sure you don't want me to snip off a little bit of that hair? Bobby's got some clippers hanging around somewhere." I offered.

Sam acknowledged my offer by showing me the longest finger on his right hand. He sat down sideways in the kitchen chair, keeping his bruised body as far from the back of the seat as possible.

"You're not going to need that." I told him as he reached for the laptop sitting across the table.

"Why?" He gave me a curious stare.

"Because we are not taking another hunt, not for another week at least." I stated, preparing myself for the argument.

"Why not?"

"Because you're hurt."

"I'm Fi…"

"Don't you dare say it! Dude I just helped you out of your shirt, because your back is so fucked up you couldn't even get it off. You're bruised to hell, there is no way you could even man a shovel if we actually found a salt and burn, and I don't want to do all the work." I lectured.

"I can watch your back while you dig up a grave. I'm not an invalid." Sam pouted.

"No you're not, you are injured." I clarified.

"We have hunted with injuries a million times before. What makes this time any different?" Sam's frustration was rising.

"It's not necessary, there's nothing pressing, nothing to finish. Let's just rest up for a while man." I implored.

"But I'm bored."

"No Sam, you're not. I don't know why I needed Bobby to point it out to me, but you will never be bored when you're in a house full of books. Because you're a dork like that." I teased with a smile.

"But you're bored." He said, staring up at me.

"Yeah, so what? I can find other things to do, no one ever died of boredom…that I know of." I added thoughtfully.

"Dean I can handle a hunt. Honestly."

"I know Sam, but you don't have to. I know you're just doing it for me, and although I think that's moronic, I appreciate it, but it's not necessary."

"It's not just for you. I want to go on a hunt."

"Why? If this is about Dad, I swear we'll keep looking for him."

"It's not, it's about me." My brother paused for a moment, searching for his words; I allowed him all the time he needed.

"I just want to feel normal."

I nodded my head, because Bobby had told me as much, and because I understood completely. There were numerous times in my life where I'd been injured or hurt or scared and I always craved normalcy in the aftermath…well our version of normal anyways.

"Just one hunt man, after we can come back and stay here for a month if that's what you want."

I stood pondering the offer.

"Please Dean, I need this."

A part of me knew Sam was bullshitting; that he wanted to go on a hunt because he thought it would be good for me and that it in fact had nothing at all to do with him. But he was using those damn puppy dog eyes, and even with the wet straggly hair, the look still made me cave.

"Fine, but only if we find something simple, I'm not risking your well-being just so you can feel normal."

"What could be more normal than that?" Sam said with a laugh. I knew it was supposed to be a joke, but I found no humour in the reality of the comment.

Sam spent most of the day scavenging the internet for a new case and it would seem he was having difficulty finding a hunt that fit the restrictions I had set out. It had to be simple, as simple as a hunt could possibly be and it had to be within a few hours of Bobby's because I knew that Sam's back could not handle a long drive, regardless of how fine he kept insisting he was.

I spent most of my day working on a car that had no hope in hell of ever being functional, but I was trying my hardest not to look bored.

Bobby made chili for dinner and I dragged Sam off the laptop long enough to come eat it.

"If you two were still looking for a simple hunt I think I got one for you." Bobby announced as we dug into our meal.

"What do you got?" I smiled at the disgusted look Sam sent my way for talking with my mouth full.

"Cursed object it looks like."

"Sounds simple enough." I admitted. "Where's it at?"

"A town called Herrick; it's in Gregory County, about three hours west of here."

Once Bobby said the name of the town I heard a spoon clatter at the same time that I started gagging on my chilli. I gagged until my mouth was empty. I felt Bobby's hand pounding on my back, no doubt assuming I was choking. What he didn't know was that I wasn't choking on food, but a memory, one so dark and violent that my body was physically rejecting the recollection.

"Breathe boy." I followed Bobby's order, regaining control of my body and looking across the table at my little brother.

Sam was staring far off; his face frozen in a look of abject horror, a look I had sworn would never again obstruct his features.

"Sam, Sammy." I called out, pulling him back from the memory I knew he was reliving. Sam twitched; his mind and body returning to the present as his gaze met mine.

"I'm here, you're here, were good." I reassured, begging him to believe me with my expression. Sam nodded jerkily in response.

"Yeah." He rasped in reply, visibly straining to regain his composer.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that I'm missing something." Bobby stated uneasily.

"You could say that." Sam told the older hunter, without removing his gaze from mine.

Sam and I continued to look at each other, each of us gaining strength and support from the other.

"You're going to have to find someone else for that hunt Bobby." I said after a moment, finally breaking eye contact with my little brother and glancing over at the older man.

"Dean—

"No Sam!" I said, my tone more aggressive than I had intended.

"It's a hunt we—

"I said no! There is no way in hell we are going back there." I seethed, my body vibrating in a barely controlled rage.

Sam gave me a look, one that was so soaked in sympathy it made me hate myself, and all the sudden I was suffocating, desperate for air.

"I'll be outside." I muttered, clumsily climbing to my feet and practically running for the door. I heard Sam call out my name, and while that was something I would rarely ever ignore, I knew that I would be of no help to him until I got a grip of myself, so I kept walking.

By the time I made it to the shop I was flowing with a hate that I hadn't felt in over a decade, a rage that I had buried away for so long. It was rising up and taking control of every part of me, spreading throughout my body like a poison.

Once I was in the shop, throwing and smashing every object in my sight, I stopped fighting and allowed the memory I was so desperate to escape, to take over. Then I closed my eyes losing myself in the darkness and the pain.

" _Why can't we just stay at Bobby's?" I looked across the diner table at the skinny ten year old boy picking slowly at his food._

" _I don't know Sammy. Dad told me the same thing that he told you. Him and Bobby had a falling out." I answered casually, checking out the ass of the hot chic that walked past our table._

" _And what does that mean exactly?"_

" _It means that Bobby and him aren't talking. It means that while he's away we are stuck hanging around that shitty motel instead of fixing cars at Bobby's."_

" _That's stupid." Sam sulked._

" _You're telling me. I'm the one stuck being a fucking dishwasher." I said; referring to the part-time job I had to get at the diner because John was taking longer than he was supposed and, as usual, he left us with practically no cash._

" _Sorry Dean." Sam mumbled, looking up at me apologetically through that ridiculous hair._

" _It's not your fault Sammy." I said with a sigh, annoyed that I'd allowed my anger with our situation to come out at my little brother._

" _Just eat your dinner." I instructed softly. Sam nodded obediently, something he rarely did, and he probably only did because I had made him feel guilty. Some brother I was._

" _How about after my shift we go grab some junk food at the corner store? We can take it back to the motel and see if maybe we can get the stupid tv to work." I offered with a smile, pretending not to worry about how that might affect our cash flow. If need be I would just pick up an extra shift._

_Watching Sammy's little face light up at the idea made it all worth it, every stupid minute of washing nasty dishes in boiling hot water._

" _Really Dean?"_

_God those dimples, why does he even have the dimples? Aren't the big puppy dog eyes enough? Not to mention that stupid brown shaggy hair that's always hanging in his face._

" _Yeah, really squirt." I replied with a smile._

" _Kid! Your break was over five minutes ago, get your ass back here!"_

_I resisted the urge to tell off my boss as he yelled at me from the kitchen, the only thing stopping me being the fact that I needed this job in order to feed the little midget seated across from me._

" _Coming." I hollered, sliding out of the booth._

" _Finish your supper Sammy. If you eat everything on that plate I will swipe you a slice of pie from the kitchen." I said with a wink._

" _Okay Dean." Sam replied, his eyes twinkling in excitement._

" _Good man." I said, messing up the kid's hair. "My shift is over in two hours. So you just finish your food and do your homework."_

" _I'm already finished it."_

_No duh, my little brother had been sitting there since three this afternoon. I hated having to drag him to work. three to eight was a long time for a ten year old to just sit around, but I couldn't leave him at the motel. It was one of the sketchier ones we've stayed in and there is no way I was leaving my baby brother alone in that hellhole._

" _That's cause you're a dork. Did you bring a book?"_

" _Yup, I got one at the school library like you told me to."_

" _That's my boy."_

" _It's about dinosaurs."_

" _Cool." I said, laughing at the smile that spread across my little brother's face. I don't know why the kid thought my approval was so important, but I'd be lying if I said I it didn't make me feel good._

" _Hey! Kid! You looking to get canned?"_

_I rolled my eyes at the stupid question, but turned to head back to the kitchen before Joe followed through on the threat he'd been making every shift for the past week._

" _My name's Dean, I don't know who this kid is that you keep yelling at." I quipped as I made my way to the kitchen, sending a wink over my shoulder to my giggling little brother._

_I kept a constant eye on Sammy as I washed dishes, being able to see him through the kitchen door if I looked over my shoulder. It was killer on my neck, but my constant need to check on him always trumped my own personal comfort._

_I was soaking an egg covered frying pan when I did a Sam-check and what I saw had me making a quick exit from the kitchen and towards my brother._

_There was an older man sitting with him, one that I recognized from the motel and one that made me just as uncomfortable the first time I set eyes on him as he did now._

_He was sitting across from Sam, and to everyone else I am sure he looked as though he was just being friendly, but something in my gut made me doubt his sincerity._

" _What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, walking up to the booth._

" _Oh hello. I was just keeping little Sammy here company, you must be Dean. I'm Gary, I think we are staying at the same hote. I am a few doors down from you two." He said, standing up and stretching his hand out towards me._

_There was nothing appalling or offsetting about the man's appearance. He was shorter than he looked, probably about 5'10'', but he was chunky with brown hair and a beard. He looked to be about my dad's age, maybe a little older. But there was something in his eyes and even in his voice that seemed fake, and it made my stomach twist._

" _My name is none of your fucking business, and neither is my brother's, so I suggest you go find somewhere else to sit, or we are going to have a problem." I glowered, doing my finest John Winchester impression._

_The man smiled in reply, nodding his head._

" _I understand, didn't mean to cause any trouble. Have fun reading your book little Sammy." He said as he made his way across the diner and took a seat at another booth._

" _What's the matter Dean?" Sam asked, looking up at me quizzically._

" _What have I said about strangers Sam?" I asked, staring steadily at my younger brother._

" _I'm sorry, he just asked about my book and then he told me his name and he asked me what mine was. I just introduced myself and then he asked me who I was with and I just said my brother Dean, but then I didn't talk to him anymore, I promise." Sam told me, staring up at me with wide honest eyes, imploring me to believe him._

" _Okay Sammy, but don't talk to him anymore alright? Don't talk to anybody, just me." I insisted._

" _Okay Dean." Sam agreed with a nod of his head._

" _Good, now I have to go back to the kitchen, so just stay here and read your book." At Sam's affirming nod I returned to my neglected dishes._

_I had an hour left of my shift when Joe came up and told me to go sort the garbage at the back. I groaned at the task, not at all eager to end up covered in nasty diner trash, but I knew I had no choice but to do it. I was on thin ice with the boss as it was. I took a glance over my shoulder at Sammy, smirking at how deeply he was enthralled in that book. I looked across the diner where I had seen the man, Gary or whatever his name was; noticing he was no longer there I headed to go sort through garbage._

_It took me the rest of my shift to separate the cardboard and plastic from the many bags of trash stacked in the back room. Out of all of the diners in the world somehow I got a job at the one that bothers to recycle. I pulled off the cleaning gloves and apron I had been wearing, tossing them in the hamper as I made my way through the kitchen. I went to the office to pick up my pay, not only had I managed to convince my boss that I was sixteen, but I also talked him into paying me in cash at the end of every shift. I collected my pay for the day, a measly thirty bucks, and then headed out to meet my little brother._

_As I entered the dining room I stopped in my tracks, staring wide-eyed at the table where my little brother was supposed to be seated. I looked around frantically, calling out for Sammy. I checked every booth and the bathrooms and all through the kitchen, I asked everybody there with no luck until an elderly lady got my attention._

" _Sammy, is that the little boy with brown hair?" She asked gently._

" _Yes, yes did you see him?" I questioned frantically._

" _He left about an hour ago with his father, but I think he left his book bag." She said pointing at the booth Sam had been at, where his school bag was now the only thing that remained._

" _Father? What did he look like?" I asked hastily._

" _He had brown hair and a beard, seemed like a nice fellow. Why dear? Whatever is the matter?"_

_I was too panicked to giver her an answer, grabbing Sam's book bag and running out the door. Because I knew exactly who had my little brother and I knew precisely where the son of a bitch took him._

_The motel was a couple blocks away. As I sprinted down streets and alleys with horror scenes playing out in my mind, I wished, not for the first time since being ditched in this town, that I was old enough to drive a car around. Every second I spent running was another second Sammy was away from me, another second I didn't know what was happening to him, another second I wasn't protecting him._

_I ran faster, faster than I had ever run during training, or even during a hunt, faster than I ever thought my legs could carry me._

_As I was approaching the motel, I reached around and grabbed a hold of the gun I had tucked in the waistband of my jeans. I tried to remember what room I had first seen that man standing outside of, racking my brain, visualizing the scene. It wasn't until I ran past it that I remembered. He had been three rooms down from ours._

_As I approached the room I kicked down the door without a second thought, my gun at the ready as the door splintered and swung open._

_Nothing on this earth could have prepared me for what I saw behind that door. I could never have been ready for it, or expecting it. In my worst dreams I never would have thought to see what I did._

_There was my baby brother laying on a bare mattress in nothing but his boxers. His skinny arms and legs were tied to the bedposts and that bastard was straddling him. It took me a second to register the scene and when I did I noticed that that fucker had his hand inside Sammy's boxers._

_My mind could barely comprehend what was going on, the rage growing and flowing throughout my body caused a ringing in my ears, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the sobs of my little brother._

_Sammy's cries were muffled as he screamed through the duct tape plastered over his mouth, but I heard them loud and clear. I reluctantly tore my eyes from my kid to stare murderously at the monster on top of him._

" _Christo." I said. I was momentarily shocked when there was no reaction from the man, but the anger inside me quickly overcame that shock._

_My finger twitched on the trigger, every instinct in my body telling me to pull it, to rid of the threat, to kill the monster that dared to lay a hand on my baby brother._

_But there was a small voice that stopped me. It was not a moral one, it didn't tell me that this was a person and that killing him would be crossing a line, it didn't tell me that I couldn't take another's life. No, this was a different sort of voice, one that I always listened to because it told me how to protect Sammy. The one that had spoken up when I first laid eyes on this fucker._

_The voice told me that if I put a bullet in that man's brain he would fall on top of my baby brother. He would topple on top of Sammy._

_If I shot him from this close with this calibre of bullet, his blood would splatter onto Sam, his brain matter and skull fragments would land on my kid. And there was no fucking way in hell I would willingly cause any more pain or trauma to the young boy._

_No fucking way._

" _Get the hell away from him." I bit out, restraining every fibre of my being from emptying my gun into that monster._

_The scumbag pulled his hand out from underneath my little brother's boxers and slowly climbed off of him, coming to a stop once he was standing on the other side of the bed._

" _Get in the bathroom and shut the door." I ordered in a tone more lethal than it had ever been before._

" _I was just—_

" _Do_ ** _not_** _speak. You open your mouth again and I blow your fucking head off." I seethed; my voice loud and dangerous._

_The man must have seen the promise in my eyes, because he immediately did as i ordered; acting like the skittish spineless piece of shit that he was._

_Once he shut the door I let my gun fall to my side, my hand shaking as I tucked it into my jeans again._

_I knew that chicken shit wouldn't be a threat anymore. It was clear he only had the guts to harm vulnerable defenseless children. But just to be sure he didn't get any ideas of making a run for it, I grabbed a chair and wedged it underneath the bathroom doorknob, blocking bastard in._

_I made my way quickly to my brother's side, pulling the butterfly knife from my pocket._

_I went to remove the duct tape from my kid brother's mouth, my heart shredding as I looked into the watery horrified eyes staring up at me._

" _It's okay Sammy, I got you little brother." I vowed as I carefully peeled the tape off, wincing at the angry red skin that lay beneath it._

" _Dean!" He sobbed the second he was able to._

" _Right here Sammy. I got you. You're going to be just fine." I soothed, paying no heed to the tears I could feel streaming down my face and doing the best I could to keep my voice level and confident. I knew that right now more than ever my little brother needed my strength._

" _Dean please help me." The plea drove knives through my heart, as I laid a shaky hand on my Sam's head, smoothing his hair to the side and wiping his flowing tears away._

" _I'm right here kiddo, I'm going to take care of you." I cooed as I reached over the small trembling body and cut through the ropes attaching his wrists to either side of the bed post._

_My anger flared at the blood seeping down my brother's arms originating from the rope burns. I could tell from the damage done to his wrists and ankles how hard he had struggled and fought to get free._

_My body vibrated with the need to go slaughter the thing that did this to my brother. But no matter how badly I needed it, it didn't matter, because my baby brother needed me to stay with him._

" _Almost finished buddy." I encouraged softly as I cut the last of the ropes off his bleeding ankles._

_Once Sam was free he scrambled to me, throwing his arms around my neck and crying, gasping and shaking as his small body was wracked with sobs._

_I don't know how long I sat there holding him, whispering comforting nonsense into his ear as I combed my fingers through his hair and hugged his body close to mine, wishing I could hold him in my arms forever, always keeping him this protected._

_I stood from the bed, feeling his small legs wrap around my waist and his thin arms cling tighter to my neck._

_I looked for something in the room to use to cover up my young brother, but could not bring myself to let anything in there touch him again. So I strategically shimmied out of my plaid button up, belatedly realizing that I had left my jacket at work. Without extracting Sammy from my body I pulled off my button up and wrapped it securely around the young boy latched onto me._

_I made my way through the splintered door, walking out of the room from hell and into the cool night air._

_I was not the least bit surprised that no one had heard the commotion or called the police. I felt as though this type of hotel would be a host to loads of illegal activity and no one residing here would want the cops snooping about._

_I walked to our room, slipping the room key from my pocket and opening the door, hating that I had nowhere else to go, nowhere safer to take my little brother._

_I carried him inside, immediately closing and locking the door behind us. Sam was whimpering softly into my neck, his grip on me tight and his small body trembling._

" _I got you little brother. You're safe now. I'm going to keep you safe." I swore, sitting slowly down onto the bed, resting against the headboard as I soothed my baby brother; whispering reassurances into his ear as I rubbed up and down his shuddering back._

_We stayed in that position until Sammy's sobs began to taper off and he was left tiredly resting against my chest._

_His thin body was shivering, I wasn't sure if it was from shock or cold, but I decided it was best to get some warm clothes on him. I slowly detached the thin arms that were locked around my neck, calming Sam with soft promises once he began to panic._

" _I'm not going anywhere buddy, just going to lay you down, alright?" I asked as I carefully rolled him onto his back and climbed off the bed._

_I went for Sam's duffel, grabbing a clean pair of underwear and his sweatpants. I returned quickly to his side, seeing his eyes closed; and though I could tell he was not yet asleep I hoped that he would be soon, if only to spare me from having to stare into those terrified eyes one second longer._

_I made to remove my brother's boxers, about to slip them off, but as I touched the waist band the small boy on the bed released a frightened whimper._

_My hands stilled immediately._

_I had changed my little brother hundreds of times, both when he was younger and now. Whenever he fell asleep in his clothes in front of the tv, or in the car after a late hunt. I would carry him to bed and change his clothing as he slept. He never cared before, but I guess that was different now, and for that I hated that monster all the more._

" _Sammy, open your eyes buddy." I instructed softly._

_My baby brother's eyelids rose slowly. Soon he hazel orbs were staring up at me full of tears and fear, and my heart clenched violently._

" _Keep your eyes on me kiddo. I'm just going to get you into some clean clothes; we've done this a hundred times before. Alright?" I asked; making sure the situation was as comfortable for my little brother as possible._

_Sam nodded at me, taking a deep breath and swiping the tears from his face. I gave a reassuring smile as I placed a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair to the side._

" _It's just me little brother." I recited calmly as I slid Sam's boxers off, relieved that there didn't seem to be any visible damage to the area underneath, as well as disgusted that that had to be a concern at all._

_I quickly slipped the fresh pair of boxers on the small body, followed by the warm sweatpants. I grabbed one of my sweaters, knowing how Sam always seemed to find comfort in my clothing whenever he was sick or hurting._

_I gently pulled Sam up into a sitting position, just now noticing the finger-print sized bruises littering his arms and torso. I clenched my jaw in anger, but kept my hands gentle as I slipped the sweater onto the young boy._

_Sam looked even smaller swallowed up in my clothing, his shaggy hair hanging down in front of his tear-stained face as his big watery eyes looked up at me from underneath his bangs._

_That miserable expression made me all the more desperate to make this better for him, to take away all the pain and bring back his innocence._

_I knew there were questions I had to ask, answers I required to make sure that Sam was okay, but I dreaded making the kid relive the horrifying event._

_I sat facing the young boy on the bed, trying to form words as I gazed at the traumatized child before me._

" _Sammy, I need you to tell me what happened."_

_Sam looked up at me, eyes wide and panicked as he started to shake his head._

" _No Dean, I don't want you to be angry." He hiccupped._

" _I won't Sam, I promise. I just need to know, nothing you say will make me angry." I declared earnestly, ducking my head to see my little brother's face and reassure him with my soft expression._

_After a moment Sam seemed convinced and he nodded shakily, taking in a few deep breaths before beginning._

" _He came to me at the diner and said that you were waiting outside for me. I didn't believe him, but when I peeked in the kitchen you weren't there. He said that you had gone out the back and you were waiting. I went with him, just to check. And then when I didn't see you I tried to get back inside, but he wouldn't let me. I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. He dragged me to the car and put me inside. I tried really hard to fight Dean but he was so strong." Sam was practically hyperventilating by this point, trying to talk through his tears as he hiccupped and gasped for breath._

" _Sam, Sammy calm down buddy. It's okay." I comforted, entrapping the young boys hand in mine as I ran my fingers through his hair. It was a lie, because all of this was pretty fucking far from okay, but the hard truth was not what my baby brother needed right now._

_I coached Sam into taking deep slow breaths until he had calmed down._

" _He brought me back here and dragged me into his room. I kept fighting him but he just picked me up by the arm and threw me on the bed." There was a pause, before my kid brother continued with his eyes downcast._

" _He tied me up Dean, and then he… he st-started cutting off my clothes." Sam stuttered, every tear I wiped from his cheek being replaced by another._

" _He…he took pictures… of me in my underwear. I told him to stop, but he just taped my mouth."_

_My body shuttered at the new information, and I made a mental note to go burn down that fucking room when we were finished this conversation._

" _He got on top of me Dean…and he put his hand… and then you came." Sam choked out, his emotions taking over._

_I wanted to just hold him and comfort him, but I needed one more answer first._

" _Sam, listen to me." I ordered softly, placing my hand along my little brothers wet cheeks and angling his head up so he was looking at me._

" _Did he hurt you Sammy?" I asked, ignoring the way my voice cracked as I waited for a response._

" _Just when he grabbed me." Sam answered, explaining the bruises on his upper body._

" _Anywhere else? Did he hurt you anywhere else kiddo?" I didn't have to say the exact words, my little brother was smart and he knew what I was asking._

" _No Dean, he just started touching…down there… when you came in." Sam explained through his tears, hiding behind is hair in embarrassment._

" _Are you sure?" I asked, needing to be positive, needing to know if I had to take the kid to the hospital._

" _Yes Dean, I promise." He whispered, looking up at me with wide honest tearful eyes._

" _Alright Sammy, it's okay, I believe you." I promised, pulling the small boy into my arms and rocking him gently as he lost what little composure he had acquired._

_It didn't take long before Sam had cried himself to sleep; his emotional and physical exertion draining his energy. I carefully lay Sam back onto the bed, covering him up with the comforter, carding my fingers through his hair before purposefully climbing to my feet._

_I grabbed the cellphone and stood by the door, far enough to hopefully not wake Sam, but not so far that I didn't have him in my sight. I had the phone clenched impossibly hard in my grasp, my body shaking with anger and hate as I listened to the ring._

" _Yeah?" My father's gruff voice came rough through the phone._

" _If you don't come home now, I'm going to kill him." I vowed in a tone low and dangerous._

" _What's going on Dean?"_

" _He touched Sammy Dad, that perv put his filthy hands on my little brother." I choked out, my voice clogged with terror._

" _I'm on my way Dean. Tell me what happened." John ordered as I heard him starting up the Impala._

_I told the older hunter everything Sam had told me. My voice shaking with ire and anguish as I fought to control my body, fought to keep myself from going three rooms down and slicing that monster into a million tiny pieces._

" _Where is he?" I knew who my father was referring to simply by the disgust in his tone._

" _Three doors down from ours. I put him in the bathroom and blocked off the door, not sure if he's still in there though."_

_When my father spoke again, his voice was even more lethal and dangerous as mine had been, but still controlled._

" _Listen to me Dean, you are not going to touch him."_

" _But Dad—_

" _No. You will stay with Sam. You will not leave his side. He needs you Dean."_

_The statement was simple, but the truth of it sliced deep into my soul._

_That is why I had not laid a hand on that sick pedophile yet, not because he didn't deserve it, or because I didn't want to, but because my priority number one needed me._

_My Sammy needed me._

_He didn't need me avenge him or kill the man that touched him._

_He needed me to be there with him, to keep him safe._

_And I couldn't deny him that._

" _Yes sir." I said, taking a deep breath and trying to contain my erupting emotions._

" _Good. Do not leave that room until I get there. I should only be a couple of hours."_

" _Yes sir."_

_As with most conversations, there was no farewell, just the simple click of my father ending the call._

_Sam slept restlessly for the next couple hours, clinging to me as he attempted to rest._

_He stirred without waking once I began to gently clean and bandage his wrists and ankles. The skin was raw, but was no longer bleeding._

_His body would heal in no time, his soul; well that was another matter entirely._

_I didn't move from my position beside my little brother until I heard the Impala pulling up to the motel, the sound of the engine unmistakable to me. I untangled myself from understandably clingy little brother and made my way to the door, opening it and stepping just outside._

_As John stepped from the car, our eyes met. I was taken aback by the darkness residing in his gaze. A darkness I had never seen before, I was tempted to test him for procession. And then I realized that he was processed. He was processed with hate and anger, and for that I could hardly blame him._

_I nodded my head to the right, telling him the only information that mattered to him at that point, the direction of the location of the man that hurt his youngest child._

_My father nodded at me and then pointed back to the room. I understood the order without requiring the verbalization. I turned immediately and headed back inside the room, returning to my place at Sam's side. I smirked fondly as the kid rolled towards me the moment I sat down, throwing his arm over top of my legs and pressing his head up against my hip._

_For one simple moment it felt as though it was any normal night and I was sharing a bed with my octopus of a little brother._

_That moment was short lived as the young boy started to recite the word 'no' over and over again._

_I began to card my fingers through his shaggy hair, smiling when the action did what I had hoped it would and calmed my kid down almost instantly._

_It was almost an hour later when I heard the distinct squeak of the Impala's trunk popping open._

_I carefully climbed from the bed and stepped out the motel room door. Dad was standing beside the car, using a rag to clean the blood off a machete, he looked up at me, his expression still full of darkness, but also holding a deep sadness I knew would never be erased._

" _Was he human?" I asked._

_That thought had been bothering me. I knew that he wasn't possessed and I didn't think he was anything we'd ever hunted before, but a small part of me thought him to be some sort of supernatural being._

_Maybe I just wanted that to be the case so I could assure myself that that kind of evil could only be supernatural. Perhaps a childish side of myself was just hoping that no human could be that despicable._

" _No Dean, he sure as hell wasn't. He was a monster." My dad's statement had me nodding my head, because maybe that scum was a member of the human species, but his monstrous actions were anything but human._

" _Sam said there were…pictures…" I choked out practically gagging at the sheer thought._

" _Yeah I know. I took care of it." My father's voice shook, whether in fury or disturbance I wasn't sure._

_I didn't need to ask if the sonovabitch was dead, I knew that he was._

_A part of me did want to ask how he was killed._

_Wanted to hear every bloody horrible detail._

_Wanted to know if he had screamed and begged like Sammy had._

_Wanted to know if he cried and whimpered like the children he had hurt._

_Another part of me didn't want to know what my father was capable; didn't want to know the level of torture John could inflict; didn't want to see that side of my dad._

_I could tell by the look on John's face that he had no intention whatsoever of sharing the past hour's events with me, because maybe he also wanted to shield me from that side of himself._

_We never spoke of that night again._

_Sammy spent weeks being skittish and refusing to let anyone but me lay a hand on him, including John._

_I remember dad had gone to carry him from the bed to the car and Sam woke up just as our father was sliding a hand under his legs. The kid let out a piercing cry and catapulted out of the bed. I remember seeing an array of emotions flutter across the older man's face, guilt and remorse being the most dominant. But I hadn't had time to examine his features because I had a little brother to calm down._

_Sammy calmed immediately at my touch, clinging to me as though his life depended on it._

When I came back from the dark memory I was kneeling on the floor in the shop. I had thrown or smashed everything in reach, tools and glass littered the ground.

I didn't realize I had been crying until I felt the wetness on my cheeks and tasted the saltiness on my lips. I rubbed at my eyes as I got to my feet, slowly beginning to clean up the mess I had made.

"Holy shit Dean, I mean I expected destruction, but this is ridiculous. Looks like a tornado ripped through here."

I turned to look at Sam as he wandered into the shop.

"Want some help?" He offered as he picked up a wrench that had ended up in the trash can.

"No, I did it. I can clean it." I said, taking the tool from his hand and placing it back where it belonged.

"Dean—

"We are not going back there man. I don't care what kind of bitch fit you throw, there is no way in hell we are ever stepping foot in that fucking town ever again."

There was a period of silence, during which I continued to clean while Sam stood off to the side.

When my little brother made to speak again, I was ready for the argument. The lecture of how our own personal feelings didn't come in to play when innocent lives were at risk. The lecture telling me it was our responsibility.

"Okay."

The simple agreement surprised me and I looked over at Sam.

"You serious? No lecture? No bitching?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm serious. There are other hunters around; they can take care of it."

I looked at him in disbelief.

"I know how hard it would be for you Dean. I'm not going to put you through that."

"You're unbelievable." I snorted.

The young man sent me a curious look.

"It would be hard for me? What about you Sam?" I asked.

He ducked his head down, hiding his expression from my eyes, making it highly difficult for me to get a good read on the kid.

"I was only ten, Dean."

The fact came quietly from my little brother, who still wasn't making eye-contact with me.

"You telling me you don't remember it?" I questioned, knowing that was not the truth.

"Sam, come on." I insisted when I still didn't receive a response.

"I remember all of it Dean." Sam said, his voice soft as he looked up at me, eyes full of memories I had already relived.

"I remember what the room looked like. I remember the crappy mattress with the springs that jabbed into my back. I remember how hard his grip was. I remember screaming for you before and after he taped my mouth closed. I remember the sound of his voice as he said my name over and over again. I remember the smell of his breath, the sick look on his face, and the feel of his hands on my skin." Sam's voice wavered as he stared at me, tears pouring unobstructed down his face.

"Sammy." I whispered, hating to see my brother's pain.

"I remember being terrified. I remember fighting helplessly. I remember the pain in my wrists and ankles as the rope burned and tore at my skin. I remember thinking that no one was going to come. I remember everything he said he would do to me."

I had no power to stop the tears that escaped out of the corner of my eyes as I stared into the haunted face of my little brother.

"I'm so sorry Sam." I choked out, barely holding back the sob trying to escape my throat.

"But you know what I remember most Dean?"

I was afraid to ask, surprised when the young man took a step closer to me, pushing his hair back so his eyes could meet mine.

"I remember you saving me." My little brother's words were drenched in love and adoration that I didn't deserve.

"I remember the relief I felt when you broke into that room. I remember my body relaxing as I saw your face, because I knew that you would make everything okay."

I turned away from Sam, no longer able to take in the pride and gratefulness in his voice.

Didn't the kid understand that I shouldn't have ever let it get that far?

Couldn't he see that I was almost too late to save him?

"And that's why I could handle going back."

I turned back to face the young man before me, tear tracks on his face, but the pain that had been in his eyes was fading.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, thinking I had missed something.

"You saved me Dean. You were there to make it better for me. No one was there to make it better for you."

"What are you talking about Sam? You were the one who got hurt, not me."

"No, you just got hurt in a different way. You had to handle losing me, and then finding me in the room…in that… position…" Sam attempted to explain awkwardly, as I did a full body shiver at the eeriness of his words.

"You had to handle the situation. You had to decide whether or not to kill him and what to do with a traumatized ten year old. Dean you were only fourteen and you had to take charge and responsibility in a way that people twice your age couldn't have handled."

I was dumbfounded at the things my little brother was saying to me.

"Dean you had to be strong in a lot of ways nobody could, not even dad." I looked up suddenly at the newest comment.

"Dad was strong Sam he…" I faded off.

"He killed him, I know. I may have been ten, but I wasn't a moron." Sam said with a smirk.

"But you had to not kill him, even when I know that every bone in your body was telling you to pull that trigger. You had to control every instinct you had. You had to ignore what you wanted and focus on me instead. That took a kind of strength that Dad doesn't have."

I felt as though I should defend our father, seeing as how he wasn't here to do it himself…he was never around to do it himself.

"I remember being scared that you'd kill him." Sam commented, sitting heavily onto a stool. I grabbed one and sat down across form him.

"Why the hell would you not want me to gun down that sick son of a bitch?" I asked, my feelings toward the monster that laid a hand on my brother coming out loud and clear.

"I had no problem with him dying. It was you killing him that I had a problem with."

I gave my little brother a bewildered look, because the kid just wasn't making any sense.

"He was human Dean."

I snorted in disgust at the statement.

"He was a pedophile, but he was still human. And I didn't want to be the reason you became a killer." Sam confessed quietly.

"Sam, if I had ended that sick fuck it wouldn't have been your fault." I announced simply.

"Maybe not, but I would have felt responsible for making you cross the line."

"What line?"

"The line between the things we hunt and humans."

"Sam most of the stuff we hunt isn't half as bad as that bastard was."

"I know, believe me Dean, I know." Sam shuttered. "But I'm still glad you didn't kill him."

I shook my head in confusion. The kid was nuts.

"All I am trying to say is that I wish there had been someone there to make it alright for you, like you did for me." Sam finished with a sigh, fixing me a look of compassion.

"Nothing could make that alright little brother…what happened to you will never be alright, not ever." I clarified, my rage and bitterness sneaking their way into my words.

Sam nodded knowingly.

"I know. Anyways, I just came out here to tell you that we don't have to go on the hunt…and to make sure you're okay." Sam admitted softly, staring at me from beneath his bangs.

"This is fucked up." I muttered.

"What?"

"You get reminded of one of the worst days of your life, and somehow you end up out here trying to make me feel better." I scoffed.

"Well if it helps, I can pretty much guarantee you won't be getting much sleep tonight…neither of us will."

I nodded, knowing that my little brother's night terrors were sure to make a violent return.

"No worries kiddo." I said, slipping a hand cautiously over to rest on the back of his neck. Relieved beyond words that my touch did not result in any sort of cringe or flinch.

I remembered life after Sam got hurt by that monster.

I remembered how long it took him to be okay with physical contact with anybody but me.

I recalled the number of times he had shied away from dad when the older hunter approached him. I used to feel so bad for our father, horrified by the idea of the one person you were supposed to protect being so fearful of you.

I remembered thinking how terrible that would feel, and I just recently found out. I found out after the shifter, having Sam flinch upon seeing my face after a nightmare, or cringe at my touch.

I knew the pain in being feared by the child you were meant to protect and it was a pain I could not bear. I had only had to handle it for a few days, and in those few days I felt as though I lost a piece of who I was.

"You were so patient." The softly spoken comment invaded my thoughts and I looked at my little brother, apparently the kid had read me like a book, again.

"I just took care of you Sam." I shrugged off.

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy. I remember all the panic attacks, the anxiety, the nightmares. I practically attached myself to you for months." Sam reminisced.

"I had no intention of letting you out of my sight for a long time, so you made it a lot easier on me by clinging to me all the time." I replied with an honest smile.

"I felt bad that I couldn't seem to be the same way with Dad… it was just…well…he…it was just different."

I nodded in understanding.

"Dad understood."

"No he didn't, I could tell how pissed off he'd get when I'd flinch around him." Sam stated miserably.

"He felt ashamed Sammy, it was nothing that you did." I assured.

"That's what he called me." The admission was confusing.

At my raised eyebrow, Sam continued; his gaze down on the floor.

"Gary… he called me little Sammy." My kid brother spat the name out, the memory clearly far from faded. "That's why…after I wouldn't let anyone call me that."

My rage grew again, and I found myself wishing that bastard was still alive so I could go tare him to pieces. But not all of that anger was towards the scumbag that hurt my brother, some of it was towards myself.

"You should have told me man!" I said, hating that I had continued to use a name that my brother had feared.

"No, I didn't want you to stop. It was different when you said it, I don't know why. It just was. I always liked it when you called me that and I didn't want that…that monster to take it from me, from us."

"Then how come you kept pushing the Sam thing?" I asked after a moment.

"Well I started out because I felt it was unfair to always correct Dad but not you. Later on I just corrected you because I didn't want to be a kid anymore. And Sammy is such a little kid name." Sam finished with an eye roll.

"That's why I use it Sam, because you are a little kid."

"Pfft. Whatever Jerk."

"Bitch."

"So when I call you Sammy…you don't…you know… think of him?" I asked uneasily.

"God now Dean, not at all. I promise." Sam assured.

I nodded, not possessing the right words to express my relief.

We sat smiling at one another for a minute, soaking in the fact that regardless of all the shit that went on in our past, right now we were both there, and we were okay.

I buried that rage deep within me again. I recognized how unhealthy that was, but I knew it was something I just couldn't let go of.

I would never be able to get over the fact that some fucking pedophile had gotten his nasty hands on my little brother. It was something I would never forgive myself for allowing to happen on my watch, and it was an injustice I would never be able to move past.

The hate I felt toward that monster would never die, even though he did. But for now I could shove it down, I would bury it deep inside of me and let other emotions take over. Like my love for this floppy haired, dimply faced, puppy dog eyed kid sitting before me.

Sitting before me without a fucking coat on; I thought as I saw a shiver run through the thin man's body.

"Dude, why the hell did you come out here?" I asked, standing up and grabbing a hold of my little brothers forearm, helping to pull him to his feet.

"Wanted to make sure you were okay." Sam said simply, as though it were the most apparent thing on the planet.

"Well next time you come check on me how about putting on a coat." I griped as we headed slowly back toward the house.

"How about next time you storm off you stay inside." Sam returned with a smirk.

"Smart-ass." I muttered.

I didn't know if I would ever be able to step a foot back in Herrick town. Didn't even know if I'd ever be able to talk about it or what happened there without feeling poisonous rage spread throughout my body.

But I did know that I had the best little brother in the entire fucking world and that there is nothing I wouldn't do, no line I wouldn't cross to keep him safe.

* * *

Note: Not sure about whether or not to add to this, let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading! Please comment/review if you have a moment. - Sam


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wasn't lying when he said that neither of us would be getting any sleep.

The poor kid couldn't seem to be able to fall asleep and I couldn't even try to until I knew that he was resting soundly.

"Sam, go to sleep." I sighed as I watched my little brother looking around the room.

He was lying on his stomach on the bed, his body still. That was partially how I knew he wasn't sleeping, the kid was a constant mover, always twitching and shifting in his sleep. I could also tell by his breathing, it was not slow and deep the way it gets when he's asleep.

"You first." Sam replied quietly, turning his head to look over at my bed.

"That's not how it works little brother."

"Why is that?" He asked, turning completely on his side to face me.

"What do you mean?" I wondered, returning the curious look I was getting.

"Why do I always have to fall asleep before you?"

"Not always, sometimes I fall asleep first. Especially when you go all insaniac on me."

"You mean insomniac?" Sam corrected me with a laugh.

"Yeah whatever."

"Still, even then you always try and stay up until I fall asleep."

"No I don't." I objected.

"Dean, you totally do. I watch you fight sleep for hours until you finally nod off."

"What's your point kid?" I questioned, somehow frustrated that Sam noticed everything.

"I'm just wondering why you do it. Why do you always have to be the last one to sleep?"

I looked at my little brother, unsure if he could see my raised eyebrows.

"You know why Sam." I stated, refusing to commit to an all-out chick-flick moment by spelling out the fact that I slept better when I knew he was peacefully and safely resting.

"Yeah, I suppose I do." The young man sighed.

We both laid in bed for a few silent moments before Sam spoke again.

"Do you ever get them…bad dreams?" He asked quietly.

"Uuhh I—

"Never mind, of course you don't. Stupid question." Sam muttered, looking away.

"I think I had some after mom." I admitted.

I watched my brother nod his head in understanding.

"So just when you were a kid?" He wondered.

"No." I answered simply.

I could tell by the silence that settled over us, that Sam was itching to know more, and I didn't want to share. But I knew that he was feeling ashamed of his nightmares, and if having a sharing-caring moment was going to take that shame away for my little brother, than share I will.

"After you went to school, I had…uhh, well nightmares I guess." I stuttered.

I said I would share, I didn't say I would be good at it.

"Of what?" Sam inquired.

"They were always about you, something happening to you." I explained, taking a breath before continuing.

"It went on for a couple months. The dreams would be different, but it was always something bad happening to you and me not being able to get to you. Not being able to save you." I finished, clearing my throat awkwardly.

"I didn't know that." Sam whispered.

"I never told you." I responded with a shrug.

"I had them when I was fourteen to…after…uhh…after what happened to you." I confessed quietly after a few more minutes of silence.

"Really?" Sam sounded surprised.

"Yeah, they weren't like yours, not that bad…but I had dreams that I didn't make it….that I didn't get to you in time." I admitted, trying to ignore the lump that had appeared in my throat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam rasped with a voice full of emotion.

"Seriously Sam?" I huffed, looking over at the kid in disbelief.

My little brother just stared at me expectantly.

"Dude, you were dealing with enough shit. You had your own dreams to deal with. I wasn't about to tell you about mine. I wouldn't put that on you. You were only ten years old Sammy." I ranted, sitting up in bed to get a better look at him.

Sam sat up across from me, our knees touching as we looked at each other. There was enough moonlight coming in the window for me to get a full view of those puppy dog eyes.

"I know, I guess I just wish I could have helped you with them, the way you always helped me with mine…and still do." Sam expressed guiltily.

"You did little brother, you helped me." I insisted; ducking my head so I could make eye contact with Sam to be sure he believed what I was saying.

"How? I didn't even know you were having nightmares."

"You didn't have to."

Sam gave me a look of disbelief, so I elaborated.

"Sometimes I would hear you having a bad dream, and that would pull me out of mine. Or sometimes I would wake up out of mine and I would feel your skinny little octopus limbs holding onto me. And seeing you next to me, hearing you breathe, and feeling your heartbeat would calm me down instantly, and help me get back to sleep."

My god I was such a girl.

My brother looked unsure, peeking out at me from underneath all his hair.

"Sam you were just a kid, you couldn't help me the same way that I could you. But that doesn't mean that you didn't help in your own way." I tried to explain, needing my brother to understand that he had never let me down.

The young man stared at me a moment longer, searching for the truth of my statement in my eyes and eventually nodding his head in acceptance.

"So…are you not sleeping because you're afraid of the nightmares?

Sam looked down to the floor, hiding behind his hair. "I guess."

"Have you had…dreams of…you know…what happened. I mean since you were little have you had anymore nightmares about that…about him?" I questioned cautiously.

"Uuh, yeah. Just once." Sam shrugged.

I watched him, not wanting to force him to continue, but wanting to know more.

"It was sometime during my first year at school." Sam started, glancing between me and the floor as he spoke. "There was this criminology class I had to take and we would do case studies on different types of offenders. We would study their MO's and psychoanalyze them. Try and figure out what makes them tick and all that."

"Bet you were good at that." I said with a smile, he had been doing that all his life, mind you it was usually with supernatural creatures, not humans.

Sam smirked in response before continuing.

"Anyways, one day we studied pedophiles…"

I watched Sam intently, although it was hard to see his expression as he spent most of the time staring at the his feet. He was wringing his hands nervously as he hid behind his hair.

"We talked about their MO's. The general age of these…people, where they would hang out, what they often looked like, how they treated their victims, and how they behaved in society. And my god Dean, it was all so spot- on."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not totally catching on.

"I mean he fit the profile perfectly. The fact that he was overweight, that he was at least in his 40's, that he went after kids that were alone, that he lured them out and then became more aggressive if they stopped cooperating. The MO said that these guys were usually able to get away with what they did for years, because they came off so harmless to the rest of society."

I sat gritting my teeth as I listened. As though Sam could sense my growing anger, he got to the point quickly.

"Anyways, that lecture kind of brought up all that crap…and I dreamt of it that night…that week actually." He reminisced quietly, "Woke up screaming your name…scared the shit out of my roommate."

I cursed myself for not being there for my little brother.

"Don't do that Dean." I looked up at Sam's comment.

"Do what?" I asked innocently.

"Find a way to blame yourself."

"I don't blame myself…I just wish I could have helped." I confessed.

"You did." The simple statement was made in a confident tone and with the return of eye contact.

"What are you talking about?"

"After pretty much a week of interrupted sleep, or no sleep at all, I called you. You remember?"

I wracked my memory for a moment, thinking back, and recalling the event.

_I was sitting on a couch in some chic's apartment, and that chic was straddling me, her short skirt riding up and her c-cups practically popping out of her tight shirt while her lips were locked on to mine._

_Hands were wondering and tongues were mingling when I heard my phone go off, feeling the vibration in the pocket of my jeans. I dug it out without removing my lips from hers. I had no intention of answering, but I was curious about who was calling, seeing as how John doesn't usually call when he's travelling and not many other people had this number._

_I sent a sidelong glance at the glowing screen, pulling back immediately at the sight of the illuminated name 'Sammy'._

" _Dean." The girl whined as I leaned back away from her._

" _Sorry doll I got to take this." I responded, flipping my phone open._

" _Hey Sammy, what's up?" I asked casually, as though my brother regularly called me at two in the morning on any given day._

" _Hi Dean." The voice was soft, but not panicked. I took in a breath, it didn't seem the kid was in danger, but something was most definitely wrong._

" _What's going on?" I wondered aloud._

" _Nothing…I…I just wanted to talk…if that's okay…do you have a second?" The request was timid and embarrassed, but what really caught me was a tinge of something else, either fear or sadness…I couldn't quite peg it, but regardless, something needed to be fixed._

_And just like that, the hot chic currently sucking on my neck was of no importance to me._

" _Yeah we can talk. Just give me a second alright?"_

" _Sure."_

" _Sorry babe I got to go." I told the girl still straddling me, holding the phone to my chest so my little brother didn't hear._

" _Awe come on Dean, nothing can be that important." She crooned._

" _You're wrong. I have to go." I stated shortly, my patience wavering as I carefully tried to push her off me._

" _Baby they can wait." She insisted, attempting to return her lips to mine._

" _No they can't. Now get the fuck off me." I ordered. Fun and games were over, I needed to talk to my little brother and this bitch wasn't letting up, or getting off._

" _Wow, sorry. I was under the impression you wanted to have a little fun." She complained petulantly as she climbed off me and sat on the couch with her arms crossed…pouting…what an attractive feature._

_I didn't grace her bitching with a reply as I got up and picked my jacket up off the floor, going to slip my boots on._

" _Is that your wife on the phone or something?" Asked Julie…Janet…Janice? Whatever the hell her name was._

_I rolled my eyes as I found my second boot and slipped it on my foot, heading for the door._

" _Well I hope your phone call is fucking worth it!" She called out as I opened the door._

" _Oh it's worth it." I stated as I left the apartment._

" _Sammy? You still there?" I asked, placing the phone back against my ear as I made my way down the hall, trying to remember how to get out of this building and where I parked the Impala._

" _Yeah Dean. You didn't have to leave…you could have told me you were busy—_

" _Shut up Sam. What do you want to talk about?" I asked casually, trying to subtly get to the bottom of the real purpose of this phone call, but in no rush to do so. I missed my little brother, and if he wanted to spend the next hour talking about the weather, I would do it._

" _Anything. How are you?" Sam asked, his tone the same as it was when he first said my name, and it was getting to me._

" _I'm good. Just finished up a hunt." I aimlessly filled Sam in on the hunt I just completed as I found the Impala and started driving back to my motel._

" _You did it on your own?" Sam questioned quietly, and I hated that I could hear the guilt in his voice._

" _Yeah, it was simple enough, so Dad went to take care of something." At the absence of any response I continued. "He's on his way back to town though, should be here by tomorrow afternoon."_

_My attempt to ease my little brother's fears seemed to work as I heard him release a relieved sigh from the other end of the phone._

" _You don't have to worry about us Sammy. We can take care of ourselves." I assured._

" _I know, but I prefer it when you take care of each other." Sam said._

_I didn't have much of a response to that, but I wondered something._

" _That why you called man? You worried?" I inquired._

" _I'm always worried Dean." Sam admitted._

_I understood that, because not a day went by where I didn't worry about my little brother._

" _Well you shouldn't be. Me and Dad are all good here. You just worry about school and getting all A's."_

_Sam made no reply, so I continued._

" _How are things going there? How's school?" I asked._

" _It's fine. Busy." I gave my little brother time to elaborate, time which he did not utilize._

" _Geez Sam, don't go in to too much detail." I mocked sarcastically._

" _Sorry, I'm just tired." Sam replied, in a voice that reflected perfectly what he had said._

" _Then go to sleep." I suggested simply._

" _I will…just wanted to talk to you."_

" _That's it? You didn't call for any other reason?" I said, searching for the truth._

" _I didn't know I needed another reason." Sam answered miserably._

" _You don't. I just feel like there is something you're not telling me."_

_The silence I received from the other end confirmed my suspicions._

" _You going to let me know what's going on?"_

_I waited patiently as I drove in the dark, absently glancing at the passenger seat, feeling the familiar pang of sadness that hit me every time I looked over and didn't see a skinny, shaggy-haired kid._

" _I just wanted to talk, that's all."_

_I knew that he was lying and so did he. I also knew that if my little brother didn't want to share, he wasn't going to; he was such a stubborn little shit. But I could tell that he wasn't in danger, so I decided to let the matter slide, and just be glad that I was talking with him.._

" _So talk. How are your classes going?"_

_We spent almost two hours discussing everything from school to sports, and even the weather._

_I was reclined in bed at the motel talking to Sam when I noticed that it was almost four in the morning._

" _Don't you have school tomorrow?" I inquired._

" _Yeah." Sam released a long weary sigh; it seemed to me that the kid was doing a whole lot of sighing, evidence of his mood I supposed._

" _Well don't you need to get some shuteye?" I asked genuinely curious. My brother always took school very seriously, and whenever it was possible he would always try to get enough sleep to be able to focus in class the next day._

" _I guess so." Sam responded quietly._

" _You don't want to be walking around like a zombie all day."_

" _I know, I have a day full of classes tomorrow…so I should probably get some rest."_

" _Good idea little brother." I said with a smile, somehow finding myself quite content that the kid sounded as reluctant to hang up on me as I was to hang up on him._

" _You ever need to talk again just give me a call. Okay Sammy?" I insisted, trying to make sure he understood that I was no more than a phone call away._

" _Yeah, thanks Dean." Sam whispered shyly._

" _Anytime little brother." I responded with a smile._

_I was waiting to hear the click, never the one to hang up first when my kid was on the other end. I waited, still hearing him breathing._

" _Sammy?" I asked after a moment._

" _Dean…would you mind…uhh, if you could…"_

" _What is it Sam? Spit it out kiddo." I said, wondering what had my well-spoken little brother so tongue tied._

" _Could you leave a voicemail on my phone?" The question was almost hard to hear, I could sense the young man's embarrassment from the other side of the phone._

" _Why? I'm not following here Sam." I explained, trying to figure out what the kid was getting at._

" _It's just…I need… could you please just do it Dean?" The young man stuttered out._

" _You want me to leave you a voicemail on your phone?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Okay, about what? What do you want me to say?" I quiried._

" _Anything…just…talk."_

_I gained a little more understanding from those three words. The voicemail wasn't about content, but my voice._

_Maybe Sam was missing me almost as much as I was missing him; maybe he just needed to hear my voice, but if that was the case…_

" _Sam, if you ever need to hear from me, just call." I suggested._

" _I know…it's just I can't always call…and you might be busy…just… could you do it Dean. Please?"_

_I could practically see my kid staring at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes, and I caved like I always did when I actually could see that expression._

" _Sure Sammy, no problem. I'll call after you hang up and leave you a message." I promised casually, as if this request wasn't completely strange._

" _Thanks Dean." The relief in Sam's voice was all I needed to hear._

" _Don't mention it little brother."_

_Again I lay there listening to the man on the other end of the line breathing, waiting for him to hang up the phone. Minutes passed by and I could tell that Sam was tired, could hear it in his breathing pattern that sleep was pulling at him._

" _Go to sleep Sammy." I ordered softly._

" _Ok Dean." The quiet obedience was all the proof I needed to know that Sam was already half asleep._

_He hung up shortly after. I waited for a moment before calling him back. Listening to it ring, at the beep I began to talk. I didn't say anything deep or emotional, I'm not a girl._

_I rambled on about the infomercial that was playing on the motel television. I mocked the stupidity of the product and went on a tangent about how nobody needs a magnetic toothbrush. I kept talking until the machine cut me off in the middle of my idea for a toothbrush that doubled as a razor._

_I went to close my phone and turn in for the night, when I suddenly decided to redial. I got the machine again, I finished my thoughts on the convenience of an all-in-one bathroom tool, and then I ended on a more sentimental note._

" _Goodnight Sammy."_

_Feeling satisfied, I closed my phone, putting it on my bedside table. As I moved around on the mattress to get comfortable for the night, I turned and looked across the room at the bed furthest from the door._

_For a second I could almost see a scrawny, long-limbed, shaggy-headed, little brother lying there. I fell asleep staring at the empty bed, wishing that it was occupied by my brother._

_I did find some comfort in the fact that the kid was safe and he was at school and he was free of a life that he never wanted. I made a mental note to drop by Stanford and check in on the little brat next time I got the chance._

_The last thought I had was of that chic I had left earlier._

" _Hell yeah it was fucking worth it." I said aloud, as though Janice…Janet…Jane…whats-her-face, was in the room to hear my response._

" _Sammy's always worth it."_

"Do you remember Dean?" The question brought me back and I looked up to see Sam staring at me intently.

"Yeah, I remember when you called. That was after a nightmare?" I asked.

"That was after a week of nightmares. I wasn't able to fall asleep, either out of fear of having one of those dreams, or because I had already woken up from one. I was averaging about two hours of sleep a night. I had tried everything: tea, music, reading, running, drinking. None of it worked."

"So you called me." I declared.

"Yeah, after talking to you I was able to fall asleep, that was the first night in a week I didn't dream of what happened." Sam finished quietly.

"So the voicemail? You used that to help you sleep?" I wondered aloud, just now piecing all of this together.

"Yeah. It was the only thing that worked, used it for a few weeks." Sam admitted.

"You could have just called me you know." I added after a moment of silence.

"I know." The young man sighed with a nod of his head.

"I just didn't want to bother you every night, and I knew you would be busy some times, and a lot of the time we weren't even in the same timezone." Sam explained.

"None of that matters Sammy. I still would have picked up." I swore, catching the kids eyes, so I was sure he believed me.

"I know Dean." Sam said with a soft smile.

I nodded my head, satisfied that he got the message.

Sam yawned tiredly.

"Dude you got to try and get some rest. You're still healing, you need it." I insisted, looking the tired kid over.

"I'm already healed Dean."

"Yeah? Want me to take another look at your back?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"It's just a few bruises."

"Ha! Did you forget that after that shifter kicked your ass we went to the clinic? And the doc said that you had two broken ribs and deep tissue damage and that those bruises go all the way down to your muscles. And that's just your torso. I'm not even going to bother listing all the other damage that my body double did to the rest of you. Unless you need me to?"

"No I'm good." Sam sulked.

"Good, now stop pretending that you aren't hurt. And get some sleep." I ordered.

"It's not that easy Dean."

"It is, you just close your eyes and stop talking. Your body is tired Sam, it'll do the rest for you."

"I know I'm going to dream of him tonight." Sam's haunted voice made me cringe.

"Maybe, but then you'll wake up, or I'll wake you up." I reasoned.

Sam looked up at me, his face full of fear and his posture exhibiting a certain unease.

"You can't deprive yourself of sleep because you're afraid of what you might see."

"No Dean, I am afraid of **who** I **will** see." Sam responded darkly.

I made to reply, to ease his fears and reassure the kid, but he spoke before I got that chance.

"You don't know what it's like man."

"I do Sammy, I told you a dreamt of what happened when I was younger."

"Yeah, but could you hear him? Could you see him over top of you? Could you feel the ropes tearing at your skin? And the mattress springs digging in to your back? Can you smell his breath? And feel his hands?"

My body shuddered at the questions as well as the terrorized tone in which they were delivered.

"Sorry Dean, I didn't mean to freak you out." My brother apologized, upon seeing my reaction..

"It's okay Sam. I didn't know they were that bad." I confessed softly. Never remembering ever having a dream that was so intense and detailed…and then realizing that Sam wasn't just having nightmares, he was reliving a memory. His dreams were more real because they weren't so much dreams as a recollection of actual events.

"It's just… it's hard to go to sleep and know that he's going to be there." Sam explained softly.

I knew that I needed a new strategy. That just telling Sam to go to sleep wasn't going to work because his fear was too real and too strong.

"Let's go watch some tv." I suggested, standing from my bed.

"What? Weren't you just telling me to go to sleep?" He questioned.

"Yeah, but clearly that's not happening. I don't see much point in just lying here all night. So let's go downstairs and see if we can find something to watch on one of Bobby's three channels." I said with a touch of a smile.

Sam looked up at me curiously and then simply shrugged, getting to his feet and following me out of the room.

Watching him shuffle slowly down the stairs I could tell how jacked up his back still was.

"You got take a seat. I'm going to grab a beer."

"Okay, grab me one to." Sam requested as he moved into the sitting room.

"Here." I said, handing my brother a can of pop as I sat down beside him on the couch holding my beer.

"Hey, why don't I get one?"

"Because you can't drink it with these." I informed him, pulling his pain meds from my pocket.

"I'm not taking those." Sam rejected immediately, leaning away from them as though they'd burn him.

"Why? I can tell your back is killing you Sam. And you are past due for a dose."

"They make me tired."

It dawned on me that obviously someone who was afraid to fall asleep would not want to take medication that make you drowsy.

I debated on what to do, on one hand my kid was physically hurting and these pills would make that stop and on another hand he was emotionally hurting and these pills would make it worse. I was at a crossroads, and no direction seemed very promising. So I let Sam make his own decision. It was hard for me, but the kid decided that he would rather deal with the physical pain to avoid the emotional, so I would back him up on that…for now.

I made no comment as I dropped the pills on the wooden coffee table and leaned back against the couch sipping on my beer.

Sam watched me for a moment, seemingly surprised that I had dropped the matter so easily.

"Just like that?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Just like that." I confirmed with a nod.

Sam gazed at me quizzically before simply shrugging and turning his attention to the old western movie playing on the tv.

I watched him as he watched the screen, the room was dark but the glow of the television allowed me to see the fading bruises on his face and neck, as well as the pale pallor of his face, and the dark rings beneath his eyes.

I was going to have to find a way to help the kid get some rest. I had always been able to chase away his nightmares in the past, even when I didn't know that I was doing so. So I was sure as hell going to find a way to do it again; even though these nightmares were different…dark memories, rather than an angry imagination.

As I watched Sam tiredly lean on his side against the couch, avoiding any sort of contact being made with his messed up back, I vowed that I would find a way to make this better, to fix it.

I would find a way to help Sammy heal both physically and emotionally from all the pain he was in.

That perverted bastard had hurt my little brother enough; there was no fucking way I was going to allow that son of a bitch to continue to haunt my kid from the grave.

No Fucking Way.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: This is a bit of a transitional chapter, so sorry it's not quite as long or as eventful as usual. I should be studying for my multitude of mid-terms...but I just can't seem to do anything but write.

* * *

I woke up to the soft mummer of the TV. I groggily opened my eyes and noticed that I was lying back on Bobby's old couch. There was a pillow shoved under my head and a blanket draped over my body, two things that hadn't been there last night.

I felt a weight on my feet and I raised my head to see Sam at the other end of the couch, he had my feet pulled up onto his lap and a book opened across my legs. I could tell by the dark circles under his eyes that the kid hadn't slept a wink. I let out a long sigh and dropped my head back onto the pillow.

"Good morning sunshine." Sam mocked. I could practically see that smirk on his face as I threw up my middle finger in response.

"I put some coffee on, should be ready soon."

I groaned as I rolled over, kicking Sam's book onto the floor.

"Nice Dean." He said.

I displayed my favourite finger again as I stared lazily at the television.

Sam snickered as he shoved my feet off his lap, I groaned loudly as they hit the ground.

"You coming to the kitchen or you want me to bring your coffee in here?" My brother asked, climbing to his feet.

I moaned in response, pushing my face back into the pillow and silently cursing the morning.

Sam just chuckled as he left the room, coming back a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee in his hands.

"Here." He said, holding the steaming beverage in front of my face.

I grunted loudly as I slowly sat up and took the mug.

We sipped at our coffee, Sam still reading his latest book, while I absent-mindedly stared at whatever old cop show was playing on TV.

"You boys sleep alright?" Bobby asked as he walked into the room holding his own cup of joe.

I grunted in response.

"Dean's not much for words in the morning." Sam explained, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Some things never change." Bobby commented as he sat down heavily in the recliner and unfolded his newspaper.

The comfortable silence was broken a few minutes later when Sam placed his mug on the coffee table and got to his feet.

"I'm going to go grab a shower."

I noticed he was still wearing the zip-up sweater that he had put on yesterday, so he shouldn't need my help, but just in case I looked up at him with the question on my face.

Sam quirked a small smile and shook his head, giving me a gentle pat on the shoulder, saying he was good without actually having to use any words.

"Did he get any rest at all?" Bobby asked, once we heard the sound of running water.

"No." I sighed loudly.

"You going to let me in on what's going on?" The older man asked, looking at me intently over the newspaper.

I kept my gaze on the television. Part of me wanted to fill Bobby in, the man deserved to know what the deal was. But I didn't think it was my story to tell. I didn't know if Sam would be okay with Bobby knowing the truth, that and I didn't think I'd be able to dictate the memory without trashing the entire house.

Bobby took my lack of response as the answer it was.

"Well if you ever want to fill me in, I'll be around." The hunter mumbled, focusing his attention back on the newspaper in his hand.

I was saved from having to give any sort of response when I heard a loud bang coming from upstairs. Not a 'Sam dropped something' bang, but a loud 'the night table fell over' kind of bang.

"What the hell?" Bobby questioned.

I booked it for the stairs, hearing the older man following behind.

"Hey Sammy? You alright man?" I yelled out, pounding on the bathroom door.

My brother's only reply was a loud grunt, and that just didn't cut it for me.

"I'm coming in." Was my only warning before I swung the door open.

The water was no longer running, but the shower curtain and the rod that had once held it up were laying on top of my little brother, who was sprawled out on the floor.

"Sammy!" I called out

"I'm alright Dean." I heard him grumble, as he moved around beneath the curtain.

I went to lift the rod off him, but stopped at Sam's order.

"Wait Dean…could you grab me a towel first." He suggested, awkwardly holding the shower curtain over his lower body.

"You're such a prude Sammy, it's not like I've never seen your junk before." I mocked, grabbing Sam's towel off the counter and tossing it onto my embarrassed little brother.

Sam scrunched up his face in a scowl as he covered himself with the towel. I took the moment to lean out the bathroom door.

"I got this covered Bobby. Besides I doubt that Sam would want you to see him in his birthday suit."

"Shut up Dean!" The young man hollered from inside the bathroom.

I smirked at the response as Bobby made his way back down the stairs, muttering something about stupid Winchesters always trying to give him a heart attack.

"You all covered up there princess?"

Sam rolled his eyes at the comment, shifting around uncomfortably on the tile.

I softened my voice and stopped the mocking, seeing the lines of pain in my little brother's face.

"I'm going to pull this off you, Okay?" I warned, getting a grip on the curtain rod and waiting for Sam's nod before lifting the object off of him and carelessly tossing it out into the hallway.

Sam held the towel around his waist as he rolled onto his side, allowing me to get a grip on his elbows and help pull him to a standing position.

He groaned as he got to his feet and I winced hearing his back crack loudly, maintaining a hold on him as I waited for him to find his footing.

"Do you need to sit?" I asked, noticing that the he was still unsteady.

The young man nodded in response and I guided him over to the toilet, closing the lid with my foot and gently pushing Sam to sit down, which he did with a pained moan.

"What the hell happened?" I wondered after giving the kid a moment to catch his breath.

"It's nothing I'm fi—

"Fine, yeah right. That's why you fell down and brought part of the shower with you." I grumbled, raising an eyebrow at my brother and waiting for the truth.

"I just lost my balance, got a little dizzy. Went to grab the curtain to keep from falling…didn't really work out." Sam explained slowly through clenched teeth.

"Your back?" I questioned quietly, wanting to know the source of the his apparent pain. Not at all surprised by the dizziness, that's what happens when you refuse to get any sleep.

Sam nodded, shifting uneasily.

"Let me take a look." I instrudted, angling Sam to the side so I could get a clear view of what we were dealing with.

His back had improved immensely since that shifter kicked his ass over a week ago, but it was still pretty messed up. Most of the bruises had faded into a greenish-yellow tinge, but there were still several clusters of black bruising. I couldn't see any new damage, but I knew taking a hard fall with this much bruising, not to mention his barely recovered ribs, would hurt like hell.

"Anything specific?" I asked, as I surveyed the damage.

"No…just sort of all over." Sam bit out, shifting around some more.

"Well it doesn't look like you've done anything new. But you sure managed to aggravate all the old damage." I reported, looking over all the colourful skin.

"Great." Sam muttered sarcastically, grabbing onto the counter as he made to stand. He gasped loudly and hunched once he was on his feet.

"Take it easy kiddo. Take it easy." I ordered gently as I grasped the arm that wasn't currently gripping the counter-top.

Sam allowed me to help support him on the way back to the bedroom.

I left my brother slumped over on the bed as I went to his duffel and pulled out some clean clothes. Some clean, easy to put on, clothes.

Setting the sweatpants, boxers, and zip-up sweater beside the young man I waited for a reassuring nod before leaving the room and giving the self-conscious kid the privacy he had always insisted on.

Sam came out of the room a few minutes later, his gate slow but steady.

"You sure you don't want to lie down for a bit?"

My little brother shook his head in response and began making his way down the stairs.

"Alright then… I'll just be up here…cleaning up your mess." I hollered after Sam, smiling at the polite gesture I got in return, the same one I'd given him twice this morning.

I watched to make sure he got safely down the steps…I might have been mother-henning a little bit, but I could hardly be blamed for that…after all the brat had just managed to get hurt taking a freakin shower.

My kid spent the rest of the day in pain. I could see it in his eyes, his posture, and written all over his expression and it killed me that I couldn't do shit.

No matter how many times I begged him, Sammy refused to take the meds, terrified of the horrors he knew were waiting for him in his dreams.

All desire to find an easy hunt seemed to be lost, whether it was because of the horrific memory that had been thrown back in his face just yesterday, or the pain in his back, I wasn't sure.

Once evening hit, Bobby and I were sitting on the porch watching Sam wander aimlessly around the lot, because he was unable to sit or stand still for too long before the pain became too much. I decided to call up the doc. He had given me his contact info when I had taken Sammy into the clinic after the shifter had messed him up; somehow he had known we'd need his help again.

"What'd the doctor say?" Bobby asked once I hung up the phone and dropped back into the chair next to his.

"Said that Sam's back isn't going to get better unless he takes those meds."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, looking at me to continue with the explanation.

"As long as Sam is in pain, his muscles will be tense, and eventually his back will seize up. When that happens the doc says the kid is going to be in a whole world of agony."

We sat in silence, watching as Sam took another sluggish lap around the shop.

"Is there no other way to deal with the pain?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"No, the doc said over the counter drugs probably won't cut it, and pretty much all muscle relaxants make you drowsy anyways."

"And sleep isn't an option?" The older hunter questioned, making it clear that he had no idea why, but he'd appreciate being brought up to speed.

"Yeah, sleeps off the table." I declared dismissively.

"Nightmares?"

"Something like that." I shrugged, not wanting to go into detail; feeling as though I would be betraying Sam by sharing his traumatic experience.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know Bobby." I sighed honestly. My eyes tracking my brother, trying to think how the hell I was going to convince him to take medication when we both knew the emotional pain it would bring him.

We sat in silence a few more minutes.

"He would kill us if he knew we were just sitting here creeping on him." I stated absent-mindedly.

Bobby smirked in agreement, but neither of us bothered to take our eyes off the kid wondering aimlessly and uneasily through the maze of broken down vehicles.

I forced Sam to choke down half a BLT for dinner, which he did sitting sideways on the kitchen chair, squirming around like he used to do as a child. I always used to make fun of the kid, saying that the phrase "ants in your pants" had been made up just for him.

After dinner Sam gave up on trying to walk-off the pain and resigned himself to spending the evening lying on that old couch and staring miserably at the TV.

"Lie on your stomach." I ordered abruptly during the third episode of Bonanza.

Sam sent me a confused look, his face telling me he was not interested in playing games.

"Just trust me Sammy." I added softly.

My kid looked me over quizzically before releasing a long put-upon sigh and rolling slowly onto his front, head turned to the left so he could continue to stare at the television.

I pulled out the heating packs that I had run out to pick up during the second episode of the cowboy show and then quickly heated in Bobby's ancient microwave.

I tugged Sam's sweater up.

"What the hell you—

Before he could finish his bitching my little brother released a long relieved sigh at the feel of the heating pack placed between his shoulder blades.

I placed the second one in the middle of the colourful back, and the last one I set across the kid's lower back.

Sam was completely still for the first time all day, not squirming or twitching in discomfort.

"The heat should help your muscles relax, which isn't going to get rid of the pain, but it should ease it." I informed the young man as I pulled his sweater back down over the packs.

"It's not too hot is it?" I asked as a delayed thought.

The instructions had said that the heating packs may be too hot with direct skin contact and that a thin layer of clothing may be necessary for the most comfortable use. But I didn't think trying to manoeuvrer my brother into a t-shirt would be the most pain free option.

"No it's perfect." Sam sighed tiredly.

"You should try and get some rest." I requested, leaning over the back of the couch to slide some of that ridiculous hair off my brother's forehead.

Sam shook his head immediately.

"Come on buddy, you can't stay awake forever." I said, making my way around to squat before the young man.

"I know, I'm just… I'm not ready to see him." Sam muttered, casting his eyes down to the floor.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to argue that or comfort the kid. What I did know was that I couldn't lie to my baby brother and tell him that he wouldn't see that sonovuabitch in his dreams.

I combed my fingers through his hair a couple more times before sliding my hand behind his head and squeezing the back of his neck. Sam allowed me a small smile before returning his attention to the riveting TV playing out behind me.

I was content with the relief brought on by the heating packs…but it was short-lived.

I woke up no more than an hour later, from where I had been sprawled in the recliner, registering instantly the soft whimpering coming from the lanky form stretched out on the couch.

"Sammy?" I asked, groggily stumbling out of the chair and dropping to my knees next to Sam.

I stared into my little brother's face, seeing the tears sneaking out from underneath his eyelids. His eyes were closed and his jaw clenched as he fought to control the pain, but his trembling body told me that he was on the losing end of the battle.

I pulled up his sweater, removing the still-warm heating packs and tossing them aside. Laying my hand gently on his back I could feel his muscles violently quivering underneath my touch. I knew instantly that what the doc warned would happen was happening.

His back was seizing.

The doc said it would hurt like hell, and it's clear that he was right. The already injured muscles were going through aggressive spasms and the tension was doing nothing but bringing pain upon my little brother.

"You've got to take the meds Sam." I begged, literally on my knees, the kids face held between my hands.

He shook his head, biting his lip, but still unable to keep from releasing a pained sob.

"Sammy please!" I implored, swiping the trailing tears away with my thumb as those big watery hazel eyes stared desperately into mine.

"I'll be right here little brother. I won't leave you. I'll wake you up if things get bad. But you have to take the meds." I insisted.

"I…I don't wanna…wanna see him De." Sam choked out, the agony and emotion making his voice crack in ways that broke my heart.

"It'll be okay Sammy. Even if he's there, I'll wake you up if you start having a nightmare. I'll be right here." I promised. My gravelly voice was cracking with emotion as Sam inhaled shakily the fear and pain in his eyes palpable as I watched the debate going on in his mind.

At my brother's timid nod, I released a relieved breath I hadn't known I was holding.

I grabbed the meds from where I'd left them last night and rushed to get water.

I shook two pills into my hand and presented them quickly to my little brother, eager to get him to swallow them before he had time to change his mind.

"Just one." Sam whispered shakily, taking one of the pills from my hand and chasing it down with a sip of water.

I hoped the young man's strategy would work; that half the dose would be enough to take the edge off without entrapping the kid in night-terrors.

"Just try to relax Sammy." I encouraged, putting the water and meds aside as I gently dragged my fingers through his girlie hair.

It didn't take long before Sam's muscles stopped quivering, his body relaxing as the pill took effect, but the fear never left his eyes as he stared into mine.

I tried to look at ease, reassuring him that he would be okay and murmuring other meaningless promises.

My little brother's blinking became slower, his eyelids growing heavier. I could see him struggling to keep them open, and the last glimpse I got of those hazel orbs before the kid was pulled into sleep, was a look of complete terror. My insides ached as I watched a single tear slide out from under the closed eyelids while I listened to Sam's breathing even out and he sank into a state of rest.

I swiped the tear away with my thumb and then took a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch, keeping my promise to stay close.

I watched Sam sleep for hours. Thankful that Bobby went up to bed early tonight, because I didn't need an audience to witness my obsessive mothering.

I stared at my sleeping little brother, worrying about the lack of movement. Sam had never been a still sleeper and while I knew the meds were probably the reason for the change, it still unnerved me. I was terrified that Sam was trapped in a nightmare and the pill he took was making it impossible for him to display his distress.

It was three hours later when I was dozing on the floor still leaning against the couch, when I learned that Sam could indeed display his distress.

He began to shift about, his movements becoming more spasmodic and nothing I did was calming his actions or panicked breathing. I combed my fingers through Sam's long hair, I squeezed the back of his neck, I rubbed his chest, and none of it helped in the least.

I became desperate to wake the kid once he began to whimper. I no longer bothered trying to calm him in his restful state; I now wanted to pull him out of sleep. I grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him gently.

"Sam! Snap out of it man!" I hollered when he did not wake.

"Sammy!" I pleaded loudly, roughly shaking my little brother.

The young man's eyes flew open as he jerked awake.

"Hey buddy. It's me. It's just me!" I reassured.

But Sam didn't need any convincing. The kid immediately recognized me and was throwing himself into my arms before I had time to brace myself.

I fell off balance from where I'd been hunched over the couch and collapsed backwards onto the floor right on my ass with my little brother's arms wrapped tightly around me.

Sam's body was trembling as he held onto me, his arms around my neck as he buried his face into my shoulder. He shook and cried and held onto me just as hard as he had all those years ago, back when he was just a little ten year-old boy scared and traumatized.

I hugged him just as tightly as I had back then, whispering the same reassurances in his ear. Promising him he was safe, that I was here, and that I wasn't going to let anything happen to him.

"I've got you Sammy." I soothed, placing one hand on the back of my kid brother's neck and another hand on top of his head, being careful to avoid his bruises.

We sat like that until Sam's cries became whimpers and his whimpers turned into barely stuttered inhalations as he made an effort to collect himself.

The young man slowly released the death-grip he had had on the back of my shirt and eased himself back so that he was no longer practically sitting in my lap.

Sam looked down, his cheeks taking on a tinge of red as he avoided my gaze, clearly feeling embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it little brother." I encouraged, knowing exactly what kind of self-deprecating thoughts were running through the kid's head.

Sam nodded distractedly as he continued to focus on anything but me.

"I'm…uuhh..I'm gonna go grab a shower." He mumbled after a moment, climbing clumsily to his feet.

"You sure that's a good idea? How's your back?" I asked as I stood.

"Just a little soar, the meds are still working." Sam bit out miserably, his disdain for the medication unmistakably clear.

"You sure you don't want to lie down. Maybe catch a little more shut-eye while your back is relatively pain free?" I asked hopefully, but already knowing the answer.

Sam bit his bottom lip and fervently shook his head, turning towards the stairs.

"Sam, dude you just showered this morning." I reminded the kid, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to go back to sleep, but hoping that he'd just sit and relax for a minute…maybe he'd talk about his nightmare.

"I know…but I feel…his hands were…I just… I need to get clean." Sam stuttered out, his watery, agony-filled hazel eyes coming to meet mine for a short second before skittering away.

"Okay." I choked out, past the lump that had appeared in my throat.

Sam sent me a small empty smile that was probably meant to make me feel better, but the haunted look on his face seared into my heart.

I watched as Sam sluggishly ascended the steps to the second floor.

Once I heard the water running I cursed loudly and kicked the coffee table, flipping it over, not caring when I watched the pills fly and heard the glass shatter.

I hated feeling useless.

I hated that I couldn't fix this.

I hated that I didn't know how to help my little brother.

I hated that I ever let that pedophile get his hands on Sammy.

I hated that after over a decade of years had passed, that bastard was still haunting the young man .

I fucking loathed that that dead son of a bitch was still causing my kid so much pain.


	4. Chapter 4

"You throwing a fit?"

I looked over my shoulder at the older hunter who had entered the room; following his pointed gaze to the upturned coffee table and the shattered glass littering the floor.

I made no verbal response, simply shaking my head and running my hand through my hair. My emotions not yet in check enough for me to give any sort of reasonable reply.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on down here? Why your little brother is taking a shower and you're breaking shit at three in the bloody morning?" Bobby's voice was gruff and his tone frustrated, but it was concern that was written all over his face.

I was unable to think up an answer so instead I returned the table to an upright position and took hold of the broom that Bobby handed me.

"So I'm guessing this melt down of yours is about the thing that you two are hiding from me?"

"We aren't hiding anything Bobby, it's just…" I faded off, not sure how to properly describe the situation.

"It's just there's something that you guys aren't telling me." The older man stated bluntly.

I shrugged, unable to argue with the accuracy of the statement.

I looked up from sweeping, feeling the hunter's gaze on me, it was clear he was waiting for some sort of explanation…an explanation I was unable to provide.

"Look Bobby I…I just…it's messed up." I finished tiredly.

"I can see that." He grunted.

"We're not trying to keep you out of the loop here man. It's just not something we can really discuss." I sighed, entirely aware of how lame that sounded.

"Boy, I'm not trying to pull teeth here. But whatever the hell is going on you better fix it before you two destroy my house and triple my water bill." Bobby muttered as he turned to leave, the older man realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with us 'damn idjits' tonight.

By the time I had cleaned up my mess Sam was making his way back down the stairs. The ease of his movements and droopiness of his eyes suggested that the meds were still at work. My little brother wandered over and dropped slowly down onto the coach, staring absently at the blank television.

"Hey man." I said, taking a seat on the coffee table, facing Sam, our knees almost touching.

"How you doing?"

"I'm alright." Sam rasped, still avoiding eye-contact.

I nodded, knowing a lie when I heard it, but not bothering to poke at the exhausted young man.

"I think we are going to have to let Bobby in on what's going on here Sam."

Before I even had the full sentence out the kid was adamantly shaking his head.

"No, no Dean. No way." My little brother declared, his head still moving from left to right.

"Sam." I sighed.

"No Dean. Just no." My brother dismissed.

"He's got to know what's going on…" I tried.

"No." Sam argued, an accusing glance flashing my way quickly before it returned to glare back at the tv.

"I'm not saying we tell him everything, just—

"Just what? That I was taken? Tied to a bed? That some pedophile took pictures of me before he…before he…he mol-molested me." Sam choked out, tears streaming down his face as his desperate eyes stared up into mine.

Molested…we had never said the word, not once.

It was what happened, there was no denying that…but the word had never been vocalized.

There was something wrong about it, something so dark and painful hidden within the letters of that god-awful word.

And hearing it now made me feel sick, my mouth went dry and my stomach flipped violently.

"Dean?" Sam croaked just as I felt bile rising up my throat.

I stumbled from the room, hearing Sam call my name as I bent over the sink just in time to watch my insides splatter into it.

"Awe shit Dean, I'm sorry." Sam muttered, coming to stand next to me.

I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, but I was too busy puking my guts out.

I clenched the edge of the counter as my entire body arched in the effort to purge itself of all remaining stomach contents.

After a few minutes of constant hurling, I was given a moment of reprieve to catch my breath, straightening to a more upright position as I inhaled deeply.

"I'm so sorry man." My little brother mumbled as he placed a cool washcloth on the back of my neck.

I wanted to tell the kid to cut it with the apologies, but I didn't have time, already feeling the hot acidic liquid burning its way back up my esophagus.

I leaned back over the sink and proceeded to hack, spewing more bile from my mouth, my stomach seemingly empty.

I felt Sam's hand rubbing gently up and down my back, something I had done for him on numerous occasions.

I spit the nasty taste from my mouth, catching my breath as I waited to see if this was the end or simply an intermission.

"Stop petting me Sam, I'm not a dog." I ground out, grabbing the wet cloth from my neck and sliding it over my sweaty face, rubbing it over my mouth before dropping it onto the counter.

"Sorry…it always makes me feel better…" The young man mumbled dejectedly, immediately removing his hand from my back.

"There are some tricks that only work on little brothers." I commented in a softer tone, not wanting to make the kid feel badly.

"Here, sit down." My brother said, pulling a chair out from the table and ushering me into it.

"I'm fine Sammy, stop fussing." I huffed, dropping into the chair.

"Drink this." Sam ordered gently, handing me a bottle of water.

"Small sips." He added as I unscrewed the cap.

I rolled my eyes, because who does this kid think always told him to do that when the roles were reversed, which was usually the case. I can't even remember the last time I barfed; I had never had a sensitive stomach. I also had a rock-solid immune system; Sammy was the one always catching every bug that came around.

I took a few swallows, relishing the soothing feel of the cool water on my throat and letting it wash away the disgusting taste lingering in my mouth.

"I shouldn't have said that, don't know why I did. Sorry Dean." Sam mumbled, big hazel eyes staring at me imploringly.

"Don't worry about it Sam, it's not your fault." I insisted, looking up at the kid nervously shifting around in front of me.

"Yeah man it is. I don't know why I didn't shut up. Your face went so pale…don't know why I kept talking." My little brother cursed himself, looking away from me in frustration.

"It's fine Sammy. It is not your fault." I called out over the young man.

I mean sure I hadn't been ready for him to drop the 'm' word…but it was hardly his fault I was so damn sensitive.

"Yeah Dean it is—

"It's just a word! It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You just puked in the sink."

"Yeah Sam I remember, I was there. Just drop it!" I snapped, annoyed as much with my own pathetic behaviour as I was with my brother's stupid guilt complex.

I regretted my harsh reaction as I watched Sam visibly shrink, taking a step back as he moved his gaze to the floor.

I was trying to think of something to say that would make this shitty situation better, but nothing came to mind. Instead I released a loud yawn and rubbed at me eyes. All that heaving had taken the little energy I had.

I yawned again, feeling exhaustion settle over me.

"You should get some rest." Sam whispered shyly, clearly nervous about pissing me off.

"Yeah maybe." I relented.

"Come on." Sam said tugging gently at my sleeve.

I nodded reluctantly and climbed to my feet.

My little brother maintained a light grasp above my elbow all the way to the couch. I didn't really need the physical support. I wasn't unsteady on my feet or anything, but I felt maybe the contact was more for him than me, so I made a conscious effort not to shake it off.

I sat heavily on to the couch, irritated with how tired I was. The few hours of sleep I acquired last night and the night before that, were not nearly enough to keep me going.

"How are you still on your feet?" I grumbled, falling sideways and pulling my legs up onto the couch.

"I've had a little more experience with insomnia than you have." Sam chuckled.

I found nothing funny in the statement.

"You should sleep." I mumbled, stretching out on the furniture.

"Maybe later." Sam responded as he spread a blanket out over top of me.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, cracking my eyes open and looking up at the sasquatch who was leaning over me, making sure that every inch of my body was covered by the blanket.

"Clean up the mess you left in the sink and then I'll find something else to do." Sam shrugged.

I kept an eye on him, needing to know for sure what the plan was, because I wouldn't be able to get any sleep if I was worrying about the brat going off and getting into trouble.

I watched as understanding dawned on Sam's face, a small smile bringing out his dimples.

"I'll be right here Dean." He said, nodding towards the recliner where the book he had had his nose in earlier was now resting.

"Good." I responded, letting my eyelids fall closed.

Another thought came to me as I heard Sam moving away and I slid my hand out to stop him, grabbing hold of his knee.

"Dean?" He asked, stopping and looking down at me.

"Not your fault." I muttered, giving Sam's knee a squeeze before releasing my grip.

"I shouldn't have—

"Don't Sam." I cut him off, pulling my head up and twisting around to give him a serious look.

"Stop apologizing." I ordered, waiting for the nod before lying back down on the pillow.

"You were just stating the facts. It's me who couldn't handle it." I finished, closing my eyes, sleep pulling at me.

I felt long fingers rest against my shoulder for a moment before disappearing.

"Sometimes I forget that you're hurting just as much as I am."

I heard the sentence through the fog in my brain, but I was too far gone to form a reply.

My sleep was anything but restful. I was trapped in a never-ending replay of what happened to my little brother all those years ago. I was seeing him tied down and trapped underneath that bastard and nothing I did made a difference. I tried to scream at him, tried to attack him, even pulled the trigger of the gun, filling that bastard with bullets, but he still didn't stop, didn't get off my baby brother.

Fucking nightmares.

I was pulled from the dark dream by someone yelling my name.

"Dean! Dean get your ass in here!"

I was startled awake, knowing the owner of that voice to be the older hunter, and wondering why the hell the man was hollering at me.

"Dean!"

"I'm coming." I groaned, rolling off the coach and stumbling to my feet, heading in the direction of the voice.

"What the hell you screaming about old man?" I asked as I made me way to the kitchen.

I entered the room, Bobby standing by the door with his back to me, and I could just see Sam's shaggy head behind the hunter.

"Hey Sam, Dean's here. It's alright son."

Bobby's gruff voice was hushed as he held his hands up by his sides, looking as though he was trying not to spook the kid.

I was instantly on alert.

"What's going on?" I questioned, approaching the pair.

Bobby looked over at me, his face full of confusion as his eyes met mine in concern.

"Mailman came to the door to drop off a package, Sam opened it…and then he just froze up." Bobby summarized, glancing between me and my little brother, who had not yet made a sound.

I nodded and moved past the older man.

As I approached I could see Sam shaking, his form hunched, hair covering his eyes as he looked down at a book that was clutched in his hands.

"What is it Sammy? What's going on?" I asked, stepping within arm's reach of the kid.

Sam remained unresponsive, as he kept his gaze directed down to the object trapped in his trembling fingers.

Whatever the hell was going on it had something to do with that book.

I reached forward, grabbing hold of the hardcover and tugging at it, attempting to slide it from my brother's hold.

Sam shook his head, tightening his grip.

"Come on buddy, let me see it." I encouraged softly, watching as my he slowly began to release the object.

"That's it Sammy." I praised, pulling the book from his hands and giving it a glance.

I was caught completely off guard by what I saw and immediately dropped the object to the ground, as though it was poison, and in some way…it was.

The dinosaur book.

The fucking dinosaur book.

I hadn't seen it since that night. That night Sam had sat at the diner with his face buried within the pages.

It hadn't been in his backpack. I had always figured that it had been left at the diner we never returned to.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned behind me, probably confused as hell.

But now was not the time for an explanation, not when my little brother was quaking in fear right before me.

"Hey, Sammy. It's alright man. He's gone. That fucker's dead. He's not going to touch you." I reassured the young man, moving to stand in front of him, ducking into his line of sight.

Sam nodded his head but at the same moment, his legs gave out.

"Whooah Sammy." I grunted, catching the lanky kid and easing his descent to the ground, following him down and squatting before him.

My brother was trembling, his breathing fast and stuttered as he looked up at me with wide frightened eyes.

I recognized the situation instantly. I had seen it before; mind you it was many years ago, the last time Sam must have been fourteen.

I hated it just as much now as I did then.

Panic attack.

"Alright man. Look at me Sam." I ordered, knowing that calm was key for this.

Terrified eyes surveyed the room frantically before coming to rest on mine.

"Keep your eyes on me." I stated clearly, watching Sam struggle to prevent his gaze from wondering.

After a moment of eye-contact I knew that we had to work on the breathing before the kid hyperventilated and ended up passed out on the floor.

"Deep breath." I instructed.

Sam tried, but it was shaky and stuttered.

"Try again buddy." I insisted.

Sam took another unsteady inhale, but it was deeper than the one before it. He held it for a second before letting it back out.

"Doing great Sammy, keep going." I encouraged.

My little brother tried to regain control of himself, his eyes on me, his body shaking, but his breathing beginning to even out.

That was until Bobby cleared his throat.

I'll give the man credit and say it wasn't all that loud and it wasn't meant to attract attention. Bobby knew better than most people not to interrupt or intervene when I was taking care of my little brother.

But the sound he made was just loud enough to remind Sam that we weren't alone.

The young man flinched violently at the noise, jerking back. His breathing twice the speed it had been before as he struggled to move and get away.

"No! No Sammy!" I called out, grabbing hold of the kid's hands as he tried to shove away from me, while he looked wildly around the room, searching for the threat.

"It's just Bobby, Sam. It's just Bobby." I informed the frightened little brother as he struggled.

"Sam! Stop!" I ordered loudly.

Big mistake.

Sam Winchester has never responded well to orders.

He ripped his hands from my grasp and scrambled backwards until he hit the wall. He looked up between Bobby and I, and then he scanned the room. I knew he was searching for an escape, and when he didn't find one he curled in on himself.

Bobby looked over at me, shocked to see a young man he knew to be so strong, huddled in a ball and rocking back and forth.

"Ah shit." I cursed, because this was the exact situation I had been trying to avoid.

"Bobby could you—

"Let me know if you need anything." The older man stated earnestly, making his way out of the room.

Bobby always understood. He understood Sam and he understood me and he knew how we operated, and best of all, he knew when to back the fuck off.

"Hey buddy." I whispered, squatting down before my terrified little brother.

"It's just you and me here Sammy. Just the two of us." I assured gently, waiting and watching as he peeked out from where he was hidden behind his arms, glancing around the room.

Realizing I was telling the truth Sam uncurled just a little.

"You need to calm down little brother." I said, listening to his rapid breathing.

"C-ca-can't." Sam stuttered.

"Yes you can." I promised, moving closer.

"Just look at me." I said, placing my hand on Sam's chin and gently guiding it up so his eyes were on mine.

"Good." I forced a smile.

"Now a deep breath, hold it for a couple seconds, then out nice and slow."

Sam tried and failed.

"Come on little brother, we've done this before." I remarked, recalling the few times when he was younger that Sam reacted this way to the abrupt reminder of what was done to him that night when he was just a boy.

I took Sam's hand, trying not to notice how it shook, and placed it on my chest, covering it with mine.

"Like me Sam." I said, taking a slow deep breath and holding it, watching as the kid copied me.

We exhaled together; Sam's was shakier than mine, but definite improvement.

"Good, that's good. Now let's do it again."

Sam nodded and duplicated my actions.

"That's my boy, you got this." I smiled a few minutes later when his breathing was finally under control.

"See that wasn't so hard." I joked softly, running a hand through Sam's shaggy hair, sliding those stupid bangs off his forehead.

Sam's eyes moved from mine, and his entire body tensed as he stared at the book I'd dropped onto the floor.

"Hey man, don't worry about that." I admonished softly, placing a hand on the right side of his face and turning his head back towards me.

"But Dean…he—

"Don't worry about him. Don't even think about him Sammy. That bastard is dead."

"The how—

"We will worry about that later." I dismissed, not wanting to send my little brother back into a panic attack.

Sam took a moment to consider and then nodded in agreement. His eyes locked onto the amulet dangling from my neck, his body finally relaxing as he reached up to graze his fingers over it.

I smiled fondly at the child-like gesture.

"I'm sorry Dean." The apology was whispered in shame as two puppy dog eyes stared up at me, brimming with tears.

"Shut-up Sammy." I responded, voice thick with emotion as I placed a hand on the back of my kid brother's neck and pulled him towards me.

Sam was still shaking like a leaf as his body came to rest against mine, his long arms wrapping around me, gripping the back of my shirt as he buried his face into my shoulder.

I combed my fingers through my little brother's hair as I was careful not to put too much pressure on his back, knowing that the meds had probably worn off by now.

"Don't ever apologize for this kind of shit." I ordered quietly right into my kid's ear.

I felt Sam nod against me as he bit back a sob.

"You're okay man. I've got you." I promised, unwilling to let go of Sammy long enough to wipe the tears I could feel trailing down my face.

We stayed that way until we had both gained some degree of composure.

Then Sam began to squirm in discomfort, sitting huddled on the hard floor obviously not agreeing with his damaged back.

"How about we get off the floor now." I suggested with a smirk.

Sam nodded in agreement, allowing me to pull away from him and grip his forearms helping him to his feet.

"You okay?" I asked as I released my grip on my little brother, my hands still hovering close by in case the kid lost his balance.

"Yeah…I uuhh, I just can't stop shaking." Sam muttered, staring down at his trembling hands and arms.

"Just give it some time." I soothed.

"Here sit down. I'm going to make you some of that girly tea you drink." I said, watching Sam smirk as he slowly took a seat; the distance between his back and the chair making it clear that his injuries were bothering him again.

"Does Bobby have tea?" I asked, opening up all the cupboards.

"It's over the microwave." The response was dry and distracted.

I looked over and followed Sam's sight-line.

Kid was staring at that fucking book again.

I stalked over and picked up the hardcover, struggling to stop the repulsive shiver from travelling through my body at the sight of it.

"Dean."

I ignored the call, marching over to the door, opening it up and chucking the book as far as I could.

Without bothering to look where it landed I turned around, slamming the door closed and walking casually back to the counter. I ignored Sam's eyes on me as I waited for the water to boil, pulling out a mug and setting the teabag inside it.

I made the tea in silence, pouring in the hot water, a drop of honey, and a splash of milk.

"Here you go." I said, placing the steaming mug on the table.

"Thanks." He muttered, wrapping his bony fingers around it and breathing in the steam before taking a long sip.

I took a seat across from my brother, watching him drink his tea, dreading the conversation I knew I was going to have to start.

"Sam, we are going to have to—

"Tell Bobby, I know." The kid completed for me with a sigh.

We sat in silence, Sam looking pensive as I watched him intently.

"How much does he have to know?" He whispered, looking down into his cup as though it held the answers for him.

"I don't know." I responded honestly.

"We are going to need his help figuring out where that book came from and how the hell it got here." I bit out, my anger seeping into my words as I thought about the stupid book and what seeing it had done to my little brother.

"So we tell him I got taken…do we have to tell him what happened after that?" Sam questioned timidly, the quiver in his voice hitting me like a knife through the heart.

"I…I don't know Sam. You of all people know how hard it is to research something when you don't have the right information…" I faded out, watching my little brother's face become more distressed by the second.

"We will tell him whatever you're okay with him knowing." I announced confidently after thinking it over for a moment.

Sam had had enough crap happen to him that he didn't have a choice in, and he was going to have a choice now. If he didn't want Bobby to know anything we would work with that, because that'd be the way Sammy wanted it.

"You mean it?" He asked, looking over at me with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah man, I meant it." I promised gently, because it's about damn time the kid gets a say.

Sam nodded, a new confidence emitting from him as he sat up just a little bit straighter. My little brother took on a thoughtful look as he continued to sip on his tea. I gave him time to make his decision, noticing that his body wasn't shaking like it had been a little while ago. I realized then that it meant a lot to Sam to have a feel of control over his own life.

"He has to know everything." He said, a sad resignation in his voice.

"You sure?" I asked him, watching as he studied his tea.

Sam looked up at me, hazel eyes deep with an untouchable sorrow as well an assurance, he was positive in his decision no matter how much he hated it.

"Yeah, if we are going to find out how that book got here, he has to know."

And damn if Sam's voice didn't crack on the word book. Every time I think my heart can't possibly ache anymore, this kid proves me wrong and fucking shatters the thing.

"Alright, then we'll tell him." I confirmed.

"You."

What?"

"You have to tell him Dean… I know it's not fair—

"Sam—

"Just let me finish."

I nodded, never able to deny my brother such simple requests, even though I had a feeling he was about to spout out a load of bullshit.

"I know that it's not easy for you to talk about…what happened. I know that it hurts you as much as it does me."

I shook my head in complete disagreement, but bit my tongue, allowing my brother to finish.

"I know that it'll hurt you to tell Bobby, and I wish that I could do it Dean. But…but I can't man. I just…I don't think I could say it out loud like that…to him." Sam finished in a whisper.

"Sam, it's fine. I never would have expected you to be the one to tell him. I got this alright, we will go chill on the couch and I'll fill Bobby in."

My little brother looked at me, his eyes getting wet as he clenched his jaw.

"What's wrong Sam?" I asked.

"Do I…do I have to be in the room?" He questioned, his eyes downcast.

"You don't want to be?"

I suppose when I thought about it, it made sense that Sam wouldn't want to sit through the re-telling of one of the worst days of his life…but there was something bothering me about the look on his face.

"Not really." Sam croaked.

"Any specific reason?" I felt stupid asking that, the answer seemingly obvious, but I couldn't hep feel there was more to his reasoning.

And the way the kid was chewing on his bottom lip, I knew my instincts were accurate.

"Sammy." I insisted in my no-bullshit-tone.

"I don't want to see it."

"See what?"

"His face."

"Who's face, that bastard's?"

"No, Bobby's."

"I'm not catching on here man."

He let out a long sigh, glancing between me and his half-finished tea as he answered.

"I don't want to see his face when he finds out what happened… don't want to see it when he thinks different of me."

I couldn't believe the crap I was hearing.

"What the hell Sam?" I spouted in disbelief.

My little brother raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Dude this is Bobby. He's not going to think any different of you. And even if it wasn't Bobby, why the hell would anyone think different of you just because of what happened when you were little?" I asked, completely baffled.

"Dad did." Sam admitted with a shrug.

I honestly couldn't believe the words that were dropping out of this kid's mouth.

"No, Sam. He didn't."

"But he did! He couldn't even look at me for months, and when he did he looked at me differently." Sam insisted.

"He couldn't look at you because he was ashamed Sam!"

"I know! He was ashamed of me! He was ashamed of having a son that let something like that happen to him!" My brother yelled out, he probably would have stood had he had the energy.

"For the last time Sam, you did not **let** that scumbag do anything! It was not your fault. How could you possibly be blamed for something you had no control over? You were ten fucking years old Sam!" I responded in a matching volume, my voice breaking in emotion as I implored my little brother to believe me.

"I know Dean." He admitted, "But he looked at me different."

"Yeah Sam." I sighed. "He looked at you differently because he was ashamed of **himself**."

His face filled with confusion, so I proceeded to explain the reality to my stupid little brother.

"He was ashamed in himself for failing as a father. Dad hated that he left us there, he hated that he didn't protect you, that he wasn't there to prevent what happened." I stated seriously, leaning across the table, close to the kid's face, needing him to hear and understand what I was saying.

"He hated himself, Sammy. It had nothing, **nothing** to do with you." I declared.

Sam stared at me, wide eyes full of hope as he searched for the truth in my statement.

"I mean it little brother. Dad never blamed you. He never saw you differently. It was himself he saw differently." I informed him.

I felt an absurd amount of relief when Sam nodded his head in acceptance.

"What we tell Bobby won't change the way he sees you Sammy. I promise you that." I assured the nervous kid.

"So we will tell him. And we'll tell him together."

Sam's eyebrows went up as his mouth formed the beginning of an argument, but I started speaking before he could voice his protest.

"I will do the talking, but I want you there. I want you to see with your own stupid puppy dog eyes that Bobby won't see you any differently than he does now." I insisted.

I knew the only way Sam would truly believe that the older hunter didn't see him as any less, was if he was right there to watch the man's reaction.

"Alright Dean." Sam agreed softly, his hazel gaze nervous as he stared at me.

"It'll be alright Sammy." I promised confidently, patting the kid on the arm.

My brother gave me a half a smile, before returning his attention to his tea.

I could tell he was nervous. I could practically feel the tense energy radiating off of him.

He was scared.

Scared of Bobby knowing the truth.

Scared that his surrogate uncle would see him differently.

Those fears may be completely unnecessary, but they were still real.

Being the big brother, it was my job to ease those fears, to diminish them completely.

And that was exactly what I planned to do.

I would call Bobby down here and we would tell him what happened.

I would make sure that he made it crystal clear to Sam that the new-found knowledge changed nothing between them.

Then I would set Bobby to work on figuring out where the hell that fucking dinosaur book came from.

I would have him locate the bastard while I worked on getting my little brother to get some sleep.

Because taking care of Sammy was my job and there was no way in hell I would let him down.

Not again.

Not ever.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was in pain.

It was clear by the grimace that seemed stuck to his face.

But, as I knew he would, my brother refused to take his meds, having no desire to experience any further recollections of the past.

So instead I stuffed him full of every non-drowsy over-the-counter drug that Bobby had, hoping that it would do something to ease the kids' pain.

I watched as Sam shifted around uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"How about you go lay down on the couch. I'll warm up those heat-packs. We'll get you set and then call for Bobby." I suggested.

The young man looked to be in thought for a moment before nodding in agreement and turning around to slowly trudge into the other room.

I grabbed the heating packs and warmed them up, helping Sam lie on his stomach and placing them carefully along his back.

"That okay?" I asked softly, content with the nod I received in reply.

"You ready?" I questioned, coming around to get a look at the young man's face.

Sam was chewing on his lip, I sure sign of nerves and uncertainty, but he nodded after a couple seconds.

"You ready?" He asked me in return, his tone full of emotion.

I shook my head ruefully, because damn this kid. Worried about me when it was him in such pain.

"Yeah." I confirmed with a nod of my head.

It was a lie of course, because obviously I wasn't fucking ready. I would never be ready to dictate one of the worst memories I possessed.

But it had to be done, and there was no way in hell I was making my kid brother go through that, so I took a deep breath and did my best to steal my nerves before calling out for Bobby.

The older hunter came lumbering down the stairs, looking at me curiously and then glancing at the man laid out on the couch, eyebrows raised in question.

"We've got something we need to tell you." I announced, doing my best to appear and sound all business.

Bobby nodded, because he knew as much, and he made his way over to sit in the recliner, facing us.

I went to go sit at the end of the couch, by Sam's feet, but my little brother stopped me, long fingers wrapping around my wrist. I looked down as the young man tugged on my arm, he shifted his long body down, giving me room to sit and then laying his head on my leg once I was situated.

I was taken aback by the blatant display of vulnerability, especially since we were not the only two people in the room. Bobby also took note of my little brother's behaviour, sending me a curious expression. I just shrugged in response, because although such a display was not overly common with Sam, if that is what he needed then I was more than fine with it.

"So you boys going to fill me in on what's been going on?" Bobby questioned casually.

I took a deep breath, knowing that there was nothing I could do, no strategy I could adopt to make any of this easier.

I was struggling to find the words to begin, not sure how to start out the process of relaying one of my most horrific memories.

"Does this have something to do with Herrick Town? Something that happened there?" Bobby questioned, as though he could sense my inability to begin.

"Yes." I said with a nod, and I went from there.

The beginning was simple. I told Bobby how Dad had taken a hunt in the area and left us at a motel in town, within walking distance of the school. I talked about how after the first little while I had picked up a dishwashing job at the diner and how Sammy would sit at a booth and do his homework while I worked, so I could keep an eye on him.

I snorted at that part, because I had sure done a hell of a job keeping an eye on the kid. Sam slapped my knee at my sound of disgust, no doubt his way of admonishing me for blaming myself.

I went on to tell Bobby about the man that had approached Sam and how I had been sent to work at the back and when I finished I came out and Sam was gone. I told him how I ran all the way back to the motel…and then I paused, because this was the hard part.

The last time I had said what I saw aloud had been to my Dad over the phone right after it happened. My mouth was having trouble forming the words and that familiar rage was pumping its way through my veins.

Apparently Sam sensed my barely contained anger because he reached out, searching until he found my clenched fist and pulled it over his shoulders, uncurling my fingers and sliding his hand into my grasp.

I glanced at the shaggy head still resting on my thigh and reached down to comb my little brother's long hair to the side so I could see his face. Sam's eyes were glistening with tears yet to be shed as he stared ahead in Bobby's general direction, but clearly not making eye-contact with the older man.

I looked up to the hunter who was waiting patiently for me to continue, his face set and expression schooled, but I had a feeling that when he heard what I was about to say, all of that would change.

I took a deep breath, instinctively clenching on tighter to the hand wrapped in my fingers.

"I…I got to the motel and went to the...uhh…the room I had remembered seeing that guy standing in front of a few days earlier. I broke the door in and...and Sam was there and that guy…that bastard was…"

I choked on my words, unable to verbalize the term that Sam had utilized earlier, regardless of how accurate it was.

Long fingers latched onto my knee as I gripped tighter to Sam's hand, trying to shove down the violent fury flowing through my body.

"Sam was tied to the bed, wearing just boxers." I bit out, not failing to notice how Bobby visually tensed at my words.

I then realized how much was riding on the older man's reaction. I almost felt I should have warned him, because his response could make or break my little brother.

"That sonovabitch was on top of him." I could only manage one quick sentence at a time, I stared at the blank tv trying to collect my words.

I heard a soft sniffle come from my little brother, knowing that we were both reliving the same moment, I looked down to see a few tears sliding down his face as he stared intently at the floor, his body trembling just a little. Instinctively I began combing my fingers through his mess of hair, the motions seeming to calm both of us.

"He was…he was touching Sammy." My voice cracked on my brother's name, as I felt the moisture gathering in my eyes. Any sort of rage-full outbreak had been prevented, due to the little brother resting and gripping onto me, but in its place was an all-encompassing despair.

"I found out after he had...he'd taken pictures of Sam…laying there like that, in just his underwear." I added in disgust.

I didn't dare look to Bobby or Sam, afraid that what I'd see in either of their expressions would make me lose the little composure I was holding on to.

"When I found them, I told that fucker to get off Sam. Locked him in the bathroom." I remembered, hoping the fragments of information I was having to force off my tongue were enough to get the story across.

"I uhh, I got Sam out of there. Took him back to our room and called Dad." I stated, relieved that the worst part was over.

"He came back and I told him were that bastard was. Dad took care of him." I finished lamely. Feeling as though the words I used did not properly relay the absolute horror of the situation. That feeling vanished as soon as I glanced up at Bobby.

The hunter's body was tense, his fists clenched and that neutral expression he had been sporting was gone. replaced by one of hate and disgust. I knew that regardless of how I explained the situation, Bobby had grasped how fucking horrific it truly was.

His reaction was one I should have predicted. I knew how much Bobby cared for Sam, I knew that in a lot of ways he saw him as a son, and myself as well. I should have realized how much this story would affect the older hunter, should have known that it would hurt him.

Bobby's eyes looked into mine for a brief moment, but long enough for me to see the anguish he was feeling. Then his gaze flickered down to Sam, I watched as my little brother felt eyes on him and looked across at the man timidly. I watched as the older hunter's eyes filled and he tore his gaze from Sam, standing abruptly.

"I need some air." He grumped, his voice gruff with emotion as he vacated the room.

I listened as Bobby marched through the kitchen and heard the hinges on the front door squeal as it was opened and slammed closed.

Sam and I stayed where we were, a blanket of silence over the room.

Until my little brother spoke up.

"I told you." The declaration was made in a raspy tone that was so soft I almost missed it.

"What?" I asked, looking down at the shaggy head resting on my leg.

"Told you it would change things." Sam elaborated miserably.

"Come on man, you know it's not like that." I sighed, because this is what I had been afraid of.

"Yeah Dean, that's exactly what it's like." Sam argued, shifting off of me and trying to rise into a seated position.

"Whoah hold on." I said, attempting to grab the heating packs off of Sam's back before he started moving around.

He ignored me, letting them fall off the couch as he sat up.

"Dude you should keep these on, they're still warm." I announced picking one up off the floor.

"I'm fine." Sam responded, the bitterness in his tone impossible to miss.

"Sammy, just give Bobby some time to digest. He just found out, he needs a minute, he'll come around." I reassured confidently.

"And what if he doesn't?" The timid question made by the young man hidden behind his hair and staring sadly at the ground had my heart aching.

"He will Sam. Bobby isn't going to blame you for what happened." I stated, because even the notion of that was absurd.

"Maybe not, but he'll look at me different."

"No Sam, he won't. And neither did Dad, I thought we already went through this."

"Other people did." Sam whispered.

"What other people? We never told anybody else." I asked in confusion.

"You don't have to tell them, some people just know."

"Sam you're not making any sense." I said, ducking my head down to try and get into my little brother's line of sight and figure out what the hell the kid was going on about.

"That guy in Ohio knew."

"What guy Sam? Ohio is a pretty big state so you're going to have to be a little more specific." I pointed out in frustration, because I really hated being out of the loop.

"At the motel, when I was little. He grabbed me…it was one of the last times I had a panic attack." Sam stated, looking up at me through his bangs to see if I had caught on.

"You remember?" He croaked, eyes full of so much emotion that I wanted to look away.

"Yeah Sammy, I remember." I answered softly, because I did, I remembered as clear as though it had happened just yesterday.

_Sam was fourteen, though he really didn't look it, with his baby face and wiry build he looked more like twelve. And even though the kid was starting to grow, he had a long ways to go, still a good foot and a half shorter than me._

_These are the sort of things I observed when I was bored out of my mind in some stuffy motel room watching my little brother study like the nerd that he was._

" _I'm going to go grab us some dinner." I finally announced, rising off of the bed and slipping my shoes on._

" _Okay." Sam muttered, not bothering to look up from his textbook._

" _What do you want?" I asked him, standing in front of the tiny kitchen table where he had set up shop._

" _Umm, just a chicken sandwich." Sam answered with a shrug._

" _That's it?" I asked, this kid's lack of appetite always bothering me._

_He nodded._

_I rolled my eyes, knowing that I would grab my little brother something else to eat, be it soup, salad, or cookies, because Sam would usually eat those. A sandwich just wasn't enough, not in my books. No wonder the squirt was so small._

" _Dude you've been at that for like three hours." I pointed out._

_Sam gave no response._

" _Do you want to take a break, come with me to the diner?" I asked._

_The teen shook his head, displaying complete disinterest in my suggestion._

" _Fine, whatever, be a dork." I sighed, making my way to the door._

" _Use the change on my nightstand to go grab drinks from the vending machine." I ordered, watching Sam nod in reply._

" _Get me a Dr. Pepper."_

_Sam nodded again._

" _And a pony." I threw in, to see if the kid was paying any attention._

" _There's not enough change for that Dean." Sam stated with a smirk, finally looking up at me._

" _Damn, guess I'll just have to stick with the soda then." I replied in fake disappointment._

_Sam rolled his eyes, his dimples showing his amusement as he returned his gaze to his homework._

_What a dork._

" _I want two drinks on that table by the time I get back. And it would be nice if you cleared off enough space for us to eat, unless you want me getting ketchup stains all over you schoolwork."_

_Sam snorted a laugh and nodded his head._

_I took that as a yes and made my exit._

_The diner was just a block away, I could have walked, but I never passed up on the opportunity to show off the Impala. I drove to the diner and parked my baby, going in to order the food and returning with it less than twenty minutes later. Double bacon burger with fries and a slice of pie for me, chicken sandwich with a ceaser salad and a couple chocolate chip cookies for the midget._

_I didn't always go all out in the food department like that, but Sammy and I had been living off microwave food for the past couple of weeks and I had won a chunk of cash in a poker game last night._

_I drove back to the motel, munching on fries as I cruised through the practically empty streets of the small town._

_I pulled into the motel parking lot, climbing out of the front seat and just about to reach in and grab the takeout bag, when I heard someone talking. It wasn't the fact they were speaking that caught my attention, but the words that were being said._

" _Whoah there son, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_I looked up over the top of the Impala to see the source of the phrase, it sounded as though someone was trying to calm a frightened animal._

_What I saw made my heart stop._

_Past our room, over by the two vending machines stood a man, beyond him, crouched down low to the ground, I spotted a skinny, shaggy haired boy._

" _Sammy." I said, bolting towards the scene._

" _Get the hell away from him!" I barked at the person standing before my little brother._

_The older man startled and he backed away even farther, a confused expression on his face._

" _Sammy." I called out, reaching for the teen._

_Before I even made contact, my brother flinched back, slamming against the vending machine as he curled into himself._

" _Whoah, hey buddy. Just me." I soothed, hearing the rapid breathing and seeing the thin body tremble, just beginning to realize what was going on._

" _I don't know what happened." I turned to look over my shoulder at the man's announcement._

" _What the fuck did you do to him?" I yelled out, turning to stand protectively in front of my terrified little brother._

" _Nothing I swear!" The older man declared._

" _I was just waiting for the machine and the kid dropped his quarter so I put a hand him to get his attention and all the sudden he was swinging at me."_

_I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Sam still curled up and shaking, knowing now that it was a panic attack the kid was having._

" _All I did was grab his wrists to keep him from coming at me, but then the boy started having some sort of fit and just backed away and curled up like that." The man explained, gesturing to where my baby brother was currently cowering away in fear._

_I turned back towards Sam. Recognizing the man was no longer a threat, I focused all my intention on my kid._

" _Sammy, Talk to me man." My voice was soft and gentle as to not further frighten the teen._

_Sam's small body was shaking like a leaf in a tornado, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and take him in my arms, but feared that he would push me away._

" _Buddy please. Look at me kiddo." I pleaded, my palm hovering over the soft brown hair, unsure if contact would help or hurt._

_Before I could decide a trembling tentative hand reached towards me. Sam remained curled up, head bent and hidden behind his knees, but his thin fingers trailed my chest, stopping once they reached the amulet, and locking onto it._

_I small smile fluttered across my face, because fuck I loved this kid._

" _Yeah kiddo, it's me." I confirmed, placing my hand over the one that was gripping the small gold charm hanging from my neck._

_Sam finally lifted his head, the long hair still covering his eyes, but the rest of his face visible as he directed it up at me. I reached out slowly and slid the bangs off the young teen's face, my heart clenching at the wide watery eyes that stared up into mine._

" _That's my boy. Now slow down your breathing Sammy." I ordered, taking a slow deep inhale, willing my little brother to follow._

" _There you go buddy, you've got it." I encouraged a moment later when Sam was gaining a hold on his breathing._

_A period of time and many soothing promises later, hyperventilation was no longer impending and the teen's hard shaking had eased into a light tremble. I slowly pulled my brother to his feet._

" _What's wrong with him?"_

_At Sam's flinch I glared over my shoulder at the man, I had forgotten about his presence until now._

" _He's fine." I bit out, placing an arm across my kid brother's shoulders._

" _He doesn't look it." The man declared._

" _Son are you alright?" He asked Sam, bending to get closer to him._

_Sam just looked up at me and I moved him further behind me, stepping directly in front of him, blocking the older man's view._

" _I said he's fine." I sated through clenched teeth, getting really tired of this nosy jackass._

" _He's pale and shaky, that's not fine. He might need medical attention." The man declared, pulling a cellphone from his pocket._

" _No! He doesn't. He's alright." I insisted, not wanting the police involved._

_The older man raised an eyebrow, phone still in his hand._

_I continued, needing to reassure him, the last thing I wanted was child services pounding down the door._

" _He just, he had a panic attack. He doesn't like people touching him." I tried to explain vaguely._

_A moment later a sort of realization dawned on the man's face and then he was looking around me to Sam, wearing an expression of pure pity. Not sympathy or sadness, just pity._

_I hated it, and from the ducked head and shade of red colouring my kid's face, I knew that he hated it even more._

" _Come on Sammy." I said, pulling him into my side and directing us to the door._

_The older man didn't say anything after that just watched as we walked back to the room, which I hated him for, because Sam visibly shrunk under his stare._

" _Here, let's get you back inside." I said, opening the door and guiding my little brother through the entrance._

_I walked Sam into the room, and pulled out a chair, gently pushing him down into it._

" _You doing okay?" I asked, noticing the panic attack seemed to have ended._

_Sam nodded, glancing up at me, his face full of so many emotions I found it hard to pick just one to focus on._

" _Alright. You sit here, I'm just going to go grab the food." I told him, turning to hurry back to the Impala, but halting instantly at my little brother's response._

" _No!" Sam cried out, fingers latching on to the bottom of my shirt._

" _Whoah, dude, what's up?" I asked, spinning back around to face the kid._

_Sam stared down at the floor, both hands still griping on to my shirt._

" _Sammy? Talk to me man." I say, gently placing my fingers under the young boy's chin and raising it up so I could see his expression._

_Two big puppy dog eyes found mine, tears spilling out of them._

" _What's going on kiddo?" I questioned, crouching down, forcing Sam to release my clothes as I squatted in front of him._

" _Ju-just don't leave…please." He requested in a stuttered whisper, eyes imploring me to stay as he again reached out and grabbed hold of the amulet._

" _Sam, I'm only going to get dinner from the car." I explained gently, sliding his bangs off his face yet again._

" _I know…but just…please, I'll come with you." He suggested._

" _You sure? You weren't doing too well being outside a few minutes ago." I pointed out, careful to keep my tone soft so as not to sound accusing._

" _It was just…when he grabbed my shoulder and then I turned around…I didn't see him… I saw…" Sam trailed off, his gaze falling back to the floor._

" _I know who you saw. But it wasn't him. That bastard is dead Sammy." I ground out, trying to shut the memory of that fucker from my mind._

" _I know." Sam nodded with a sigh._

" _I just…I got confused, and then I went to hit him…and he stopped me…well I panicked." He confessed, shame filling his features as he avoided my eyes._

" _Hey Sam. Look at me." I ordered, because this kid needed to hear me out._

_I waited for those hazel eyes to find my green ones, continuing when they did._

" _This wasn't your fault. That douche-bag shouldn't have touched you. And no one would blame you for reacting like you did Sammy, you didn't know what his intentions were." I specified._

_Sam seemed to consider my argument, and shockingly enough he appeared to be accepting it, nodding his head in what I took as agreement._

" _Alright, I'm going to grab the food, I'll just be a sec." I assured my little brother, straightening up and turning for the door._

_Sam stood quickly, looking skittish stepped closer to me._

" _You want to come?" I asked softly._

_The young teen nodded in reply._

" _Okay, let's go." I said. Sam hadn't been this clingy for a while, but if this is what he needed to feel safe, than I sure as hell wasn't going to deny him such a small comfort._

_We walked back to the door we had just come in and I opened it, looking out to confirm that man was no longer standing around and then heading to the Impala._

_I pretended not to notice when I felt bony fingers gripping on to the back of my shirt as I made my way to the passenger door. Reaching in I grabbed the bag of take-out and then turned to head back to the motel. Sam wasn't paying attention and didn't turn with me, my shirt tugging as he maintained his grip, but didn't follow. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as the kid frantically searched the area, his eyes roaming everywhere, his body tense and jumpy._

" _Sam." I called back softly, watching him flinch to attention and look at me._

" _You're okay buddy. I'm right here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you." I declared with confidence, letting the kid see the promise in my eyes._

_Sam's hazel orbs gazed into mine for a moment, before a small smile swept across his face and he nodded._

_And damn if that dimply smile and trusting stare didn't make me feel like the most important person on the fucking planet._

_It wasn't until we were back in the motel room with the door locked and closed that Sam finally released his grip on my shirt. If he were just a few years younger he would have opted for locking his arms around my torso, but the boy was at the age where he was striving for independence._

_Unfortunately traumatic memories and panic attacks didn't give a shit about teenage independence._

_My little brother sat heavily into one of the two chairs set around the table. He absently watched as I unloaded the take out bag. The food probably wasn't too hot anymore, but I could deal with warm. I realized once everything was on the table that we didn't have anything to drink, but I wasn't willing to bring it up and risk Sam feeling guilty, so I simply took a seat._

_I looked over at my brother and saw the small smile playing on his face, following his line of sight I realized he was staring at the chocolate chip cookies._

_I smiled, because did I know my little brother or what!?_

" _You good?" I asked as I unwrapped my burger._

_Sam took a moment, pondering his response._

_And then I had two big soulful eyes staring up at me, a bright smile putting two dimples on display._

" _Yeah. I'm good." He said through the smile._

_And just like that everything was perfect in my world, because as long as Sam was good, I was good._

_That was just how it worked._

"He knew."

The memory faded from my mind as Sam's voice brought me back to the present.

"What?" I asked.

"He knew, that guy outside the motel. The one that grabbed me. He knew why I freaked out, and he looked at me different." Sam explained, his tone the epitome of misery.

"You don't know that he knew. And dude that douche-bay didn't even know you. Who cares how he looked at you."

"He looked at me like I was broken Dean!" The volume of the declaration startled me as I stared at my distressed little brother.

"Sam, Bobby is not going to look at you like that alright?" I said, not really sure how I was going to win this one.

"How could he not now that he knows what happened to me? What that guy did." Sam asked, his voice cracking as his eyes grew moist.

"I don't." I announced, deciding to take a different approach.

"What?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"I know what happened, hell I saw." I shivered as that fucking image bombarded my mind.

"And I never looked at you different." I finished.

"That's different." Sam objected, his voice now as soft as a whisper.

"How?"

"Because…because you're…you're you." Sam stuttered out, failing to get his point across.

"Come again?"

"You're just you. That's the way you are. You would never see or treat me any different because of something like that happening. But that doesn't mean that other people won't."

I paused at the response. Content that Sam recognized the fact that nothing that happened would ever change how I saw the kid, but frustrated that the same rules didn't seem to apply to everyone else.

"Bobby won't." I stated with more confidence than I actually possessed.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked earnestly.

"Because he knows you Sam. He knows you're not broken. He knows how strong you are." I elaborated.

Sam's eyes searched mine, looking for the truth in my words, looking to see if I believed them myself. And I did, so I let him search.

After a moment the kid seemed satisfied, giving me a small nod, his hair curtaining his eyes. He wasn't completely sold, but I could tell my brother was willing to buy the argument for now.

I was almost grateful for all that hair, because those eyes held so much emotion, and it was always so strong, staring down into my soul and on occasion they were too hard to look at.

"How's your back?" I asked, clearing my throat, looking for a change in topic before I end up bawling like a girl.

"It's alright." Sam said with a shrug.

"Really?" I remark in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

My little brother rolled his eyes, knowing precisely what I was getting at.

"Want to try that again without the bullshit?"

"Pretty sore I guess." Sam relented.

I nodded, because that sounded a lot more accurate.

"You want to lie down? I'll heat those up again." I offered, gesturing towards the heating-packs littering the floor.

The young man sighed heavily, twitching in discomfort as he looked around reluctantly.

"Come on man, I'll even find some lame documentary for you to watch while you let the heat do its job."

Sam rolled his eyes again, but a good-natured smile played on his lips as he nodded.

"Okay." He sighed, allowing me to help guide him slowly down into a horizontal position on the couch. The young man groaned loudly as he stretched out, shifting around for a moment searching for a comfortable position before settling onto his stomach.

I grabbed the heating packs off the floor and took them to the kitchen, tossing them in the microwave. As I waited for them to warm, I looked at the window. Bobby was leaning against an old broken down car. The older man's back was to me, so I couldn't see his face, but I noticed he was twisting his ball-cap around in his hands, bending the brim practically in half.

I wondered what was going through he hunter's mind at the moment, thinking I could probably make a pretty good guess. The beeping from the microwave brought me back to focus and I grabbed the three packs and returned to my brother.

My priority number one.

I snorted when I entered the room, seeing some narrated program about lions playing on the old television.

"It amazes me how you always manage to find this kind of shit." I snickered, ignoring the choice finger Sam flashed my way as I carefully pulled up his shirt.

I shook my head at the stubborn bruises that refused to fade-away and gently placed the heating sources along the young man's messed up back, careful not to cause any additional pain to the area.

Sam sighed as the warmth invaded his skin and did its job at relaxing the tensed up muscles underneath.

"How's that feel?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but reassured by the positive thumbs up my brother sent me.

I smiled, satisfied that my kid seemed to be at ease and wishing that perhaps he would fall asleep shortly, but I knew that that sort of thought was likely too optimistic.

My body began to relax as I stood there looking down at my little brother, because after all the emotion and tension of the last few hours everything was going to be alright, Sammy was alright.

"Dean?"

"Yeah." I responded automatically to the call.

"Can you check on Bobby?"

I wandered around the couch, sending the kid a curious look.

"Bobby's a big boy Sam, I think he can take care of himself." I declared.

"I know but maybe you should make sure he's okay, you know? Make sure he isn't trashing the shop or anything." Sam said, a smirk on his face as he craned his neck to look up at me.

"Nah, that's more my style little brother. Bobby likes to stand around and think about things, like you do." I stated, not missing the way the young man's smile widened at my comment.

"I'm a little more—

"Rash? Hotheaded? Destructive?" Sam finished for me.

"Bitch." I quipped.

"Jerk." Sam replied, giving me a big dimply smile, adoring eyes staring up at me for a moment before he laid his head back down on the couch and stared at the T.V. screen.

I swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat.

This fucking kid, always making me feel like a hero. Looking up at me, trusting me as though I deserved even a fraction of the faith he had in me, or the love and forgiveness he always showed me.

The protectiveness surged through me as I stared down at the young man stretched across the couch, dark circles under his eyes displaying his exhaustion.

I would find a way to stop the nightmares.

I would find the son-of-a-bitch that sent that fucking book.

I would do whatever it took to keep my kid safe.

Because Sam deserved to be safe.

He deserved to be happy.

And the kid sure as hell deserved to get some fucking rest.


	6. Chapter 6

"It has been awhile Dean, you should really go check on Bobby." Sam suggested tiredly.

"He's a grown hunter Sam, I think he'll be alright." I muttered, my own eyelids growing heavy as I stared mindlessly at the television we had been watching for the majority of the day.

"He's been out there all day." My brother pointed out softly.

I nodded, because Bobby had been outside literally the entire day. He hadn't come in to eat, not even when I called him for dinner. Sam and I had eaten leftover chilli alone while watching some sort of documentary marathon. It had started with lions, then bears, some weird sort of fish, and now it was snakes.

I was bored out of my mind, but Sam had control of the remote, and he was the one stretched out on the couch with debilitating back pain. So I suffered through the educational crap TV.

"Dean."

"Alright, I'll go see what he's up to." I sighed, pushing out of the recliner and onto my feet.

"You good here?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam replied through a yawn.

I took in his long body, content at how relaxed it seemed. The kid was still on some over-the-counter pain meds, but he had turned me down when I offered to re-warm the heating packs a couple of hours ago, declaring that his back was feeling better. Better was a relative term of course, he may not be in agony, but he still made an effort not to move around a lot and other than when he sat up to eat dinner, he had spent the day horizontal. So regardless of what Sam said, I knew that his back was still causing him pain, it was just more manageable than it had been.

And for that, I was grateful.

My gaze wandered up to my little brother's face, and I frowned.

There were deep, dark circles under his eyes.

The past couple nights of next to no sleep were wearing on the younger man. His fear of nightmares had him refusing to rest and I was going insane trying to find a way to help him.

I squatted down in front of Sam, who looked up at me curiously.

"What?" He wondered, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"You need to get some rest Sammy." I stated softly, a hand instinctively sweeping his bangs off to the side of his face.

"I know." Sam sighed. I was surprised. I had been expecting denial, maybe irritation. I had not been expecting simple acceptance and for some reason, I found myself completely unnerved by it.

"I just...it's...I don't want to..." He stuttered out, searching for the right words.

"I know." I interrupted, not needing the kid to spell it out for me. I knew that he was scared, scared of what he would see when he closed his eyes.

I couldn't blame him for being afraid, but that didn't make it okay for my little brother to go days without rest.

"But you've got to try and get some shut-eye buddy."

He nodded his agreement as he chewed nervously on his bottom lip. His anxiety at the idea of sleeping coming across loud and clear. But gone was the flat out refusal, because even the stubborn Sam Winchester could not forever deny his body's need to rest.

The exhaustion written across his expression tore at my heart as I stared into those half-lidded hazel eyes.

"What can I do Sammy?" I questioned, gently gliding my fingers through the unruly brown hair.

My little brother released another yawn as he seemed to be considering my inquiry for a moment.

"Go talk to Bobby." He finally instructed me, a small dimply smile crossing his features.

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes my brother was like a dog with a bone.

"Fine, but when I get back we are going to figure out some way for you to sleep." I declared seriously, leaving no room for argument.

Sam smirked, but nodded.

I carded my fingers through his girly locks one last time before lightly patting his head and straightening out.

"Dean." Sam called softly as I made to move away.

"Yeah?" I replied, pausing and looking down at the young man, who was chewing viciously on his bottom lip once again.

"Tell Bobby that it's okay."

"That what's okay?"

Sam took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before continuing, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Whatever he is feeling, about what happened, or about me. Tell him it's okay if he sees me differently."

"Sammy-

"I know you don't think he will, but just in case he does, I want him to know that it's okay." He whispered, the resigned tone in his voice tearing me apart.

"C'mon buddy I told you-

"I know Dean, but just tell him okay? Just in case he isn't as strong as you. I don't want him to feel bad."

And damn it if the kid didn't swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand once he was finished speaking. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't possibly have denied Sam his simple request.

"Alright Sammy, I'll tell him." I relented.

My brother glanced up at me, his eyes teary as they met mine for a brief moment and he nodded his appreciation before turning his attention back to the television where a documentary on zebras had begun.

I made my way outside, scanning for Bobby as I walked off the porch. It was dark and there was a cool chill in the air, I shivered and noticed light coming from the shop.

I walked into the garage and spotted the hunter with his head under the hood of a car, an old junker I knew for a fact had no hope of running and was far too rusted to bother getting parts from.

Bobby was doing the exact same thing I had, he was attempting to escape reality by faking distraction.

"Bobby." I called out, making my presence known.

The older man grunted, pulling his head from under the car hood and glancing over his shoulder before staring intently into the vehicle in front of him.

"You've been out here awhile. Everything alright?" I asked casually, trying not to act as though I was checking up on the hunter.

There was a moment of silence, Bobby not turning or showing any sign that he had heard me.

"Just needed some air. That was a lot to take in." He muttered, proceeding to stare under the hood of the car.

I stood a few feet behind the older man, looking at his hunched shoulders, sensing an unease radiating off of him. Concern grew in my gut as I thought that perhaps Sam had been right. Maybe our surrogate uncle was more affected than I thought he would be, maybe his feelings about us had changed.

I understood if the new information made Bobby see me differently, because I had been the one who messed up. I allowed my brother to be taken and abused and if Bobby couldn't get past that, than I would understand.

Sam was different.

Sam hadn't done anything wrong. Sam was the victim and what happened wasn't his fault. If Bobby felt differently towards me that was fine, but if it was towards Sam, that was unacceptable

The kid was dealing with enough shit right now, he didn't need rejection from his surrogate uncle on top of everything else.

"Look Bobby, I know what we told you isn't easy to take. And I understand if it changes the way you see me, but please don't treat Sam any differently. He's going through so much right now and if you push him away or start treating him like he's broken...I just, you can't to that to the kid-

"Dean I-

"Sam already feels like he's damaged. And he thinks that you'll see him that way now that you know what happened, actually he sent me out here to tell you that it's okay if you do. But it's not Bobby. It would mess him up if you started acting differently around him. So please, I don't care if you see me differently, but please don't let what happened change the way you see my little brother."

I was pleading by the end, not caring that I was disgracing the Winchester name. Bobby needed to understand what his rejection would do to Sam, how much it would hurt him.

I stood in silence, waiting for the older man's response. Slowly the hunter turned toward me, and the look on his face was not what I had been expecting. It wasn't anger, disgust, or pity. It was hurt.

"My god boy. Do you really think I would do that?"

The question threw me off and I didn't know what to say, so I stood there steadily staring at the man before me.

"I would never treat you or your brother differently because of what happened?"

Bobby paused this time, waiting for my answer.

"I don't know man, you've been out here awhile. I thought maybe you were angry." I stated, uncertain of why I sounded so nervous. I realized that perhaps the older man's opinion meant a lot more than I ever thought it would.

"I am angry, but not at you, and sure as hell not at your brother." Bobby declared gruffly.

I waited for him to continue, but Bobby seemed to be struggling to find the words.

"Then...what?" I inquired.

"What Sam went through, what you went through...it's just...two little kids should never have to deal with that kind of shit. And maybe, I don't know, maybe if I hadn't been at odds with your father, maybe you guys wouldn't have had to go through that."

"Come on Bobby, don't do that. We know Dad isn't an easy man to get along with. Neither Sam or I blame you. Any falling out between you and our father was because of him, not you, we know that much." I stated knowingly.

"Your father is a real peace of work, but that doesn't mean you boys should pay the price." Bobby muttered in aggravation.

"There's nothing you could have done. Sam and I don't blame you for anything." I assured the tense man.

Bobby huffed and shook his head, turning back towards the junker.

"I don't know how you did it Dean." He said.

"How I did what?" I asked, moving to stand closer to the vehicle the older man was absently observing.

"How you handled it. I mean after something like that happens, Sam would have been a mess."

"It wasn't just me. Dad's the one who actually dealt with the sonovabitch. Besides, Sam has always been tougher than people give him credit for."

"I have no doubt that John took that bastard out. But after something like that, even a kid as tough as Sam would have needed emotional support, and you and I both know that is not your father's area of expertise."

I didn't argue that, there would be no point, it was the truth.

"I hate that Sam had to go through that and that you were left carrying that sort of weight."

I paused at that statement.

Something wasn't right about it. The way it was worded, it made it sound as though I was forced to take care of Sam, as if he were some sort of burden.

I thought back to a time where an individual had told me something similar.

_It had been a year, to the day._

_A year since one of the worst days in my life._

_A year since Sammy and I were introduced to a new kind of evil._

_A year since some sick fuck put his nasty hands on my little brother._

_I didn't think Sam knew about the anniversary, because as I watched him eating his breakfast he seemed normal, he seemed alright._

_It wouldn't surprise me if the kid didn't know, after all, he had only been ten years old and probably hadn't known the exact date that day he was...taken._

_I did though. That date would forever be seared into my mind. The thirteenth day in September was a day I would always remember; another dark anniversary that would forever shadow the years of my life._

_I watched as Sam slowly munched on his cereal, reading through one of his schoolbooks at the same time._

_What a nerd._

_"Hey dork, less eating more reading. We've got to head to school in a few minutes." I instructed dropping my own bowl into the sink._

_"I'm not a dork!" Sam whined, mouthful of cereal, milk sneaking out and dripping down his chin._

_"Dude, chew, swallow, then talk."_

_My brother's only response was to turn his head in my direction and open his mouth as wide as possible, putting all his half-chewed food on display._

_"You're disgusting." I said with a chuckle while I packed Sam's lunch._

_I frowned at the contents of the lunch-bag, there was a juice box, an apple, a sandwich made from the last two slices of bread and what little amount of peanut butter I had managed to scrape from the now empty jar._

_I moved back to the fridge and looked inside it. All that was remained was one more apple, a few packets of ketchup, and three of those pre-sliced cheese packets._

_"Think we are going to have to make a grocery run after school today Sammy." I thought aloud as I reached into the nearly empty appliance and grabbed the last apple, adding it to my brother's lunch-pale._

_Just as I placed the fruit inside, a small hand came up beside mine and pulled it back out._

_"I only need one." Sam said, staring up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, and holding the apple out._

_"They aren't very big."_

_"I only want one." He insisted._

_"Well how about you take both just in case you're still hungry." I suggested._

_"No, you have this one."_

_"Already packed one." I lied._

_"No you didn't" Sam responded without a blink._

_"There were only two apples in the fridge this morning." He elaborated._

_"Smart-ass." I smiled, accepting the fruit as the gift that it was._

_"Do you want half of my sandwich?" Sam questioned, peering into his lunchbox._

_"No, it's fine-_

_"But you don't have a lunch."_

_"No, but my school has a cafeteria, so I'll just grab something if I'm hungry."_

_My brother looked up at me with a quizzical expression, no doubt trying to determine how honest I was being._

_I turned away, because even at the young age of eleven, this kid was still pretty good at reading me._

_"Put your lunch in your bag and get your shoes on." I instructed._

_Sam did as he was told and a few minutes later we were walking to school._

_My mind was distracted by thoughts of the year before and I was a moron for thinking that my little brother wouldn't notice._

_"What's the matter Dean?"_

_I looked down to the young boy beside me, smirking at all the hair covering his face, I was surprised he could even see me past those ridiculous bangs._

_"Nothing's the matter shorty."_

_Sam scowled at the nickname, but didn't bother denying its accuracy, even this stubborn kid couldn't pretend he wasn't severely lacking in the height department._

_"You're quiet."_

_"I'm just thinking." I replied._

_"About what?"_

_Sam had always asked too many questions, ever since he learned to speak._

_"About what we need to pick up at the store later." I lied._

_"Could we maybe, if we have enough money, could we get chocolate chip cookies?"_

_The classic request made me grin in amusement, but it faded as I thought about how messed up it was that my eleven year old brother was worried about our finances. Even worse was the fact that I wasn't sure there was enough cash for anything besides the essentials._

_"We'll see buddy." I stated, ruffling his shaggy hair with my hand as we approached the elementary school._

_There were children running all around the playground. Sam stood and looked around, we had been in town since the start of the school year, but it would seem the kid hadn't made any friends yet._

_"You good if I leave you here? Or do you want me to hang around for a bit?" I offered._

_My little brother shook his head confidently._

_"No it's okay. I'm good." He declared, walking towards the playground as if to prove himself._

_I watched as Sam went and sat by a tree near the swings and pulled out a book._

_What a dork._

_My school was right next to Sam's so it didn't take me long to get there. I may have been a little late for my first class, History, but the teacher didn't much seem to care._

_I sat at the back of the class and actually listened to the lesson, trying desperately to get my mind to focus on anything other than the events of last year. Even thinking about World War One was preferable to the memories currently running on a loop in my brain._

_I was trying so hard to focus that the vibration I felt in my pocket a few moments later, startled me. I discretely pulled out my cell and flipped it open, Dad was the only who called, so I was surprised to see an unknown number on the screen._

_I pressed talk and held the phone to my face, giving a whisper of a greeting._

_"Hello?"_

_"Dean? This is Carol Henley, I'm Sam's teacher."_

_"What's wrong?" I asked, all attempts to go unnoticed tossed out the window as my voice rose to full level._

_I felt eyes on me, but I didn't care, my complete attention on the unsure stutter in my ear._

_"I'm uhh, I'm not sure. There's something wrong with Sam."_

_"What do you mean? What's wrong with him?" I questioned, ignoring the voice of my teacher as he demanded I hang up the phone._

_"He just sort of froze up. He won't talk to anyone, all he did was say your name. I'm not sure what to do for him-_

_"I'm on my way." I declared, standing up and grabbing my backpack as I pocketed the cell._

_I marched out of the class, not blinking at the holler of my name or the orders being spouted at me._

_I practically ran to Sam's school, my mind racing with so many terrifying possibilities of what could be wrong. I felt as though I was reliving the memory of that run from the diner to the motel, the entire time terrorized by all the things my imagination came up with, all the things that could happen to my little brother without me around to protect him._

_I raced down the hallway, racking my brain to remember the classroom I had walked Sam to on his first day, the same way I had struggled to recall what motel room that bastard had stood in front of._

_I locked on Sam's room the second I past it and spun around quickly, bursting into the small classroom._

_"Sammy?" I called out immediately, scanning the room for my brother._

_I pushed my way threw a circle of students, finding Sam seated by his desk, the woman I had spoken to on the phone crouched down in front of him._

_"Sammy." I said, unnerved that the only response I received was from the teacher._

_"Dean." She recognized me, having met me on the first day of school when I brought my kid to class._

_"What happened?" I barked, having no time for pleasantries as I moved closer to my brother, but waiting for an answer before I tried to get a response out of him._

_"I don't know. We were about to take a quiz and I told the class to put their name and date at the top of the page. Sam asked me what the date was and when I told him he froze up. He hasn't spoken since, except once to ask for you."_

_The second she had mentioned the date I knew what was going on and I crouched down in front of my little brother._

_He was indeed frozen. His head was bent, hair hanging before his face as he stared down at the ground. The young boy's entire body was tense as his hands gripped the sides of his chair. I ducked my head down, but still was unable to get into his line of sight._

_"Sam? Buddy it's me." I said softly, resting my hand on his bony knee._

_My brother didn't flinch or pull away, actually no reaction occurred whatsoever._

_I listened for his breathing, realizing that it was shallow, but not erratic. This did not seem like a panic attack, but the fact Sam still hadn't responded to my appearance put my level of concern on the rise._

_I placed two fingers under the kid's chin and raised his head, but he refused to remove his gaze from the floor._

_"Sammy." I cooed, sliding my brother's hair to the side, seeing his pale skin, but not his eyes._

_"Come on man, look at me. Talk to me. Give me something." I pleaded, paying no mind to the prying eyes I could feel on the two of us._

_I slid my hand to the back of Sam's neck, under his hair, squeezing gently, an action that often worked to get his attention._

_Nothing._

_My worry and fear were growing as I continued to examine the unresponsive young boy.._

_"Should I call an ambulance?" I heard the teacher question behind me._

_"No. It's okay." I declared with false confidence._

_I took Sam's hand, carefully peeling it off of the seat and placing it on my chest, right on top of the amulet. It took a couple seconds, but soon timid fingers began to feel along the necklace. Sam's thumb slid over the charm and then he was clenching it in his fist._

_"Dean." He whispered, two hazel eyes finally meeting mine._

_The haunted look on my kid's face had my heart tearing in two, but I made sure that my expression remained calm._

_Sam needed support and security, not more emotion._

_"Yeah kiddo, it's me." I soothed._

_I felt a tug on my neck as Sam's grip on the amulet tightened and his horrified stare remained on me._

_"How about we blow this popsicle stand? How's that sound little brother?" I asked, my voice soft._

_Sam nodded eagerly and then, before I could react, he was wrapping his arms around my neck. I knew immediately what he wanted, and I went with it, sliding my hands under the kids armpits and lifting him out of the chair. Sam's legs automatically locked around my waist as I encircled an arm around his back and held him against me._

_I didn't care that my little brother may be getting to old to be held this way, because his height and weight made it easy and there was no way I was denying this kid any form of comfort._

_I paid no mind to the questions or curious stares, I simply accepted Sam's backpack when the teacher handed it to me and made my way out of the building._

_I began the walk back to the apartment Dad had set us up in, it was a pretty nice place compared to the majority of locations we frequented. I wasn't sure if John had been aware of the approaching anniversary and thought a nicer place that was nothing like the motel of last year, would help to better the dark reminder._

_It wouldn't surprise me if our father remembered, he wasn't usually one to forget morbid anniversaries._

_The way I was holding my brother, how he was clinging to me as I walked down the sidewalk, was exactly the way it had been that evening exactly one year ago. I shook my head, in an effort to physically rid my mind of such a thought, because I had had more than enough fucking flashbacks of that traumatic night._

_Instead I held tight to the small body in my arms, listening to the soft breath as I felt it puff against my neck where Sammy had his face buried._

_"Sorry." He muttered._

_"Don't be. Not ever." I instructed seriously._

_"You understand me?" I questioned after getting no reply, because Sammy needed to comprehend this. He needed to know that there was nothing to be sorry for._

_Not one fucking thing._

_I let the matter drop once I felt Sam's head move up and down, his hair brushing against my face as he nodded._

_No more words were spoken until I carried my little brother into the apartment and set him on a kitchen chair, grabbing the one beside it and pulling it over so I was seated directly in front of him._

_"You want to tell me what happened?" I asked, although I was pretty positive that I already knew._

_"I...I didn't know what day it was...I didn't know that it was that day..." The small boy sitting before me whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he continued._

_"When she told me the date...I remembered. I remembered because I had to write it in my dinosaur last year...the librarian had told me the date and I wrote it in the book so that I would know when I took it out..." Sam trailed off, his gaze constantly switching between me and his feet._

_I waited patiently, feeling as though the young boy wasn't finished and pretending that every word he forced out in that shaky, haunted tone wasn't like another knife slicing straight through my soul._

_"When I remembered the day...and what happened...I just...I didn't know what to do...I couldn't move." He explained, those damn puppy dog eyes collecting moisture as they stared up at me._

_"I was so scared." Sam choked out, tears trailing down his face._

_I immediately thumbed them away, placing my palm against the kid's cheek and waiting for his gaze to land on mine before I spoke._

_"You don't need to be scared Sammy. That monster is gone. And I am not going to let anything happen to you." I promised, watching as my little brother nodded, releasing a sob at the same time. I slid my hand to the back of his neck and pulled him into me, feeling the thin body melt against mine as he cried._

_"It's okay little brother. You're alright. I got you." I vowed, feeling my own tears fall as I held Sammy in my arms, wishing more than anything that I could absorb all of his pain and fear the same way my shirt was absorbing his tears._

_We stayed like that until my little brother could breathe steadily, until his tiny frame was no longer shaking in emotion. Then we spent the next few hours camped out in front of the television. I made Sam eat the lunch I had packed for him, although the stubborn little brat insisted we split his sandwich._

_When dinner time rolled around I knew we had to get to the store. There wasn't enough cash left to waste take-out, and we would need more food for tomorrow anyways since we had finished off the milk and cereal at breakfast._

_As the two of us walked the short distance to the nearest grocery store, I felt my cell vibrate again. Pretending not to notice the death grip Sam had to the back of my shirt, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the phone._

_"Hello." I answered, not recognizing the number._

_"Dean? It's Carol. Sam's teacher."_

_"Oh, hey." I said, unsure of why she was calling after school hours._

_"I was just calling to make sure Sam is okay."_

_"He's fine." I replied._

_"Do you know what was wrong with him?"_

_"He was just upset, I sorted it out." I stated, not failing to notice Sam's grasp of my shirt become impossibly tighter as the kid tensed at the words. I casually slung my arm over my brother's narrow shoulder's, pulling him against me and sending him a reassuring smile. The young boy allowed me a glimpse of his dimples, his hold on the fabric relaxing just a little._

_"You take care of him a lot don't you?"_

_The question caught me off gaurd. I wasn't sure what the reasoning was behind it. It didn't sound nosy or leading, but rather as though the teacher already knew the answer and was just thinking aloud._

_"Yeah I do." I replied honestly, glancing over fondly to the kid at my side._

_"That must be tough. That's a lot of responsibility for such a young man."_

_The sympathy in her tone had me squinting in displeasure, I didn't appreciate what the woman was insinuating._

_"It's fine." I stated curtly, hoping to be through with this conversation._

_"I know what it's like to be stuck looking after a younger sibling, it's a heavy burden to carry."_

_I nearly growled at the words and at the pity I could sense dripping off of them._

_"Listen lady, I am not stuck and-_

_I wanted to tell her that Sammy wasn't a burden, but I knew better than to voice that right in front of him._

_"And you clearly don't have a fricken clue what you're talking about."_

_I bit out, hanging up before the teacher could give some dumb-ass response._

_Thankfully, and shockingly, Sam didn't pose any questions about the call, simply leaning into me as we made our way to the store._

_My brother put on one hell of a brave face when we went into the moderately busy building, even though it was clear he was still shaken up. Sam maintained a firm grip on the back of my shirt as we wandered the grocery store aisles. I relished the dimply grin I received when I grabbed a bag of chocolate chip cookies off the shelf and dropped them into the cart._

_Screw finances, Sammy deserved whatever he wanted._

_And if that was cookies, the kid was getting some damn cookies._

_That night, after grilled cheese sandwiches and a chocolate-chip dessert, Sam fell asleep curled into my side. He fit perfectly under my arm, one of his hands holding the amulet as the other gripped my shirt._

_I knew we were in for hours of nightmares. I knew that I would be exhausted tomorrow and that the kid would probably spend the next little while clinging to me, but I didn't give a shit._

_Sam was my little brother, and it was my job to protect him and make him feel safe, whatever that involved._

_The idea that people thought my little brother was some sort of unfortunate responsibility or a burden pissed me off to no end._

_The kid had been through hell, he had been kidnapped and freakin abused by some sick bastard, whatever the hell he needed to get through that, to get past that traumatic event, that is what I would give him._

_Be it physical comfort or chocolate chip cookies._

_Sam was not a burden, he made my life better, he gave me so much._

_He trusted me so completely, even after I had failed to protect him._

_He looked up to me and would give me whatever he could, even if that was just half of his lunch._

_And he loved me without reservation or conditions._

_Sam was the most forgiving, kind, and loving little brother on the whole fucking planet._

_How could anyone possibly see him as a burden?_

"Don't say that Bobby." I said, the old memory fading away in my mind.

The hunter looked over at me, his expression one of question.

"Sam is not a burden." I stated clearly.

"Dean, that's-

"Taking care of Sam may not have always been easy, especially after the..the incident...but it was never something I was forced to do, it was never a weight or a burden. I take care of Sammy because he's my little brother and he needs me. That's all there is to it."

"I wasn't-

"And after all the shit that kid has been through he doesn't deserve to be seen as some sack of flour I'm forced to carry around. Besides it's not like Sam doesn't return the favour. He has always had my back and he has saved me more times and in more ways than even he knows." I yelled, my frustration with the world's inability to understand how much my little brother had to offer, coming through as I glared at Bobby.

"Dean! Would you let me speak?" He requested.

I clenched my jaw and nodded.

"I never said Sam was a burden-

"You said he was a weight."

"No, you moron. I said I hated that you had to carry that weight. I didn't mean Sam. I meant the weight of what happened to your brother. The pain and the guilt, all that crap. Not your brother." Bobby explained his tone gruff but earnest as he looked at me.

"Oh." I responded after a moment, realizing I may have jumped down the man's neck a little too soon.

"Yeah, oh. You damn idjit." The older man muttered.

We stood in silence for a moment before Bobby spoke up again.

"Look Dean. I'm pissed at what happened to you two boys, but I don't feel any differently about you and your brother. What that bastard did is not either of your faults and it doesn't change anything. I know that. And I will make sure Sam knows it. I will talk to him tomorrow when I've got my head on straight. Alright?"

I nodded, unable to express in words how thankful and relieved I was.

"You go on inside. I'll be in soon." He informed me, turning his attention back to the rusted piece of junk in front of him.

I made my way to the door, pausing before I exited the shop.

"Hey Bobby?"

The hunter looked at me over his shoulder.

"Will you be able to handle it? I mean...I'm going to need your help finding out who sent that book, because whoever they are they know what happened to Sam. They might have even been involved somehow."

"Of course I can handle it. Who do you think I am? Malibu Barbie? All you Winchester are so damn thick in the skull." He grumbled, looking back at the car.

I smirked in amusement and made my way back to the house, ready to inform my kid brother that his surrogate uncle didn't see him any differently now than he had last week.

When I entered the study I was surprised to see the TV was off, but I could still hear a low murmuring voice.

_"Seriously though dude, an all in one bathroom tool. It would make life so much easier. No need for a bag full of stuff, you just have one tool that does it all for you..."_

I instantly recognized that voice and that rant as my own, remembering the night I had shared the rambling thought.

Quietly, I made my way to the couch and looked down at the long body stretched across it. Sam appeared to be asleep, his long hair curtaining his face as steady deep breathing came from his slightly parted lips. My brother's limbs were relaxed and his expression at ease, the way it always was when he slept peacefully.

Gripped in Sam's long bony fingers was his cell-phone, and playing on that device was the second half of the message I had left for my little brother years ago.

I couldn't believe the little bitch kept my message.

Reaching down, I tugged the old warn blanket up over the young man's broad shoulders, so different from the slender ones I used to sling my arm around.

"Goodnight Sammy." I whispered as I swept my little brother's ridiculous bangs off to the side of his face.

I tried to swallow down the lump that appeared in my throat, my eyes misting over as I stared down at the kid I loved so fucking much.

There would probably be more nightmares, maybe even some tonight.

And the search for the bastard that sent that damn book would not doubt bring about more painful memories.

But Sammy was going to be okay, he was going to make it through.

Because I would make sure of it.

I would take care of my little brother the way I always had.

Not because I was forced to and not because he was some stupid burden.

I would take care of Sam because he was my little brother and he was the best damn brother on the planet.

Sam had saved me from a life of misery, grief, and darkness.

The least I could do was protect my kid from the monsters of the world.


	7. Chapter 7

The voicemail worked it's magic, to an extent.

Sam was out for nearly five straight hours, which wasn't great considering how far behind he was, but at this point I would take what I could get.

And what I could get was a handful of hours of peaceful sleep, which came to an end abruptly and violently.

I had been dozing on the chair next to the couch when my brother's rapid breathing caused me to wake.

"Sam?" I croaked, still half asleep as a clambered out of my make-shift bed.

"No. Dean. Help. Dean!" Sam cried.

I clumsily dropped down onto my knees next to the couch, placing a hand on the young man's chest and forehead to keep him from tossing around too much and doing further damage to his still-healing back.

His skin was drenched with sweat as his breathing remained erratic.

"Sammy! Wake up buddy, I'm right here." I informed my brother, my voice loud and strong.

Sam keened and whimpered in response, the sounds sending steaks through my heart.

"Fuck. Come on Sam! Wake up!" I hollered, mere inches from his face.

Sam came to with a cry.

I immediately backed away, seeing the panic in my brothers gaze as he launched himself off the couch.

"Sam, it's alright. You're okay." I placated.

He looked over at me, a terrified expression on his face as he stumbled into the coffee table, knocking it over as well as the dinner dishes that remained on top of it.

The loud noise did nothing to ease my skittish little brother, and he continued to move frantically around the room. His lack of coordination sent him bumping into the desk, he flung his hand back to balance himself, but all he managed to do was send a lamp to the ground. The glass shattered startling Sam even more.

"Take it easy buddy. You're fine. Take it easy." I instructed, approaching slowly, both arms up in a surrendered position.

The closer I got the more I could tell exactly how hard the frightened man was shaking, his entire body trembled as he kept glancing nervously around the room.

"Hey, look at me Sam." I ordered, finally close enough the reach out and wrap my fingers just above his elbow, to keep him steady.

He must have recognized my touch, because Sam didn't flinch or pull away, he just stared down at me. His eyes glistened with tears as they eventually met mine.

"I'm here. You're safe little brother. You're safe." I promised tugging his lanky body away from the glass shards scattered across the floor.

Sam followed me willingly, but he continued to vibrate, nerves clearly still on edge.

I lead him back to the couch, and attempted to push him down into it, but Sam wouldn't have it.

"No, I'm going to go take a shower." He declared, his breathing stunted, but steadier than it had been moments ago.

"No Sam, just sit. You don't need another shower." I said patiently as my brother refused to take a seat.

"I need to." He announced, trying to pull away from me, but I would not relinquish my firm grip.

"Sam you can't keep doing this man-

"I can feel him Dean. Alright? I can feel his hands...and his breath...fuck...I can smell him!" Sam's voice cracked as he swiped aggressively at the tears trying to escape from his eyes.

"I can feel him on my skin. Just let me shower. Please Dean, please."

What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

This kid with with his floppy hair and his watery puppy dog eyes staring into my soul, pleading for me to let him go take a damn shower.

"Sure Sammy." I whispered, squeezing his arm supportively before releasing it entirely.

He nodded his thanks and made a beeline for the stairs.

Unfortunately, Sam was walking with his head down and failed to notice Bobby standing on the bottom step until he nearly ran into him.

"Whoah, easy there son." The older man said, reaching out to steady my brother as he reared back in shock.

Mistake number one, Bobby failing to announce his presence.

Mistake number two, making physical contact with my anxious brother

Bobby's stabilizing hold had Sam ripping his arm from the hunter's grip and flattening himself up against the wall.

The older man's eyes went wide and he stepped down the last stair and backed away from the jumpy kid.

"It's alright Sam. It's just Bobby." I soothed, making my way toward the two and keeping a watchful gaze on my brother.

I could hear him breathing deeply, eyes closed as he struggled to regain his composure.

I stepped in front of Bobby and stared intently at Sam. He opened his eyes again, inhaling normally as he unattached himself from the wall and looked at me.

"You're fine buddy. Just go take your shower." I told him gently.

My brother nodded in response before sending a glance over my shoulder.

"Sorry." Sam rasped to the hunter, his cheeks coloured in shame as he ducked his head and continued up the stairs.

I waited until I heard him enter the bathroom and turn the water on, before I turned to face the hunter standing behind me.

He looked equal parts confused and apologetic.

"I heard all the noise and I came down to see if you two were alright." He stated gruffly.

"Yeah sorry about that. Sam had a nightmare."

"A bad one by the sounds of it." He elaborated.

I nodded, running a hand over my face and through my hair.

"He's not great with touch...not after he gets that memory shoved in his face." I explained with a tired sigh as I began to clean the room.

"Except with you."

I didn't deny the truth of it, simply shrugging as I returned the coffee table to an upright position.

"He was like that with Dad though." I recalled, as I picked the lamp up off the ground.

"Yeah? How'd John handle it?" Bobby asked, sweeping the shards of glass into a pile.

"He didn't really." I muttered.

The older hunter was silent as he continued to sweep, but the way he was eyeing me told me that he was waiting for a more detailed explanation.

"I could tell it tore at him you know? After it happened he was feeling guilty as hell obviously, and then having Sam flinch and shy away from him for months...well it sure didn't help any. Not that I could blame the kid. After what he went through..." I faded off, not wanting to go into detail about exactly how traumatized my little brother was or should have been.

"Mostly Dad would just keep his distance. Go off on a hunt, call every now and then. His way of dealing I guess." I thought aloud.

"Sounds like John." Bobby stated, no unkindly.

"Dad didn't really know how to handle Sam...not when he was like that...but he made it easier for me."

"How so?"

"He let me do my job. He stood back, didn't try and take over. He let me take care of Sammy and make decisions for the kid. Even though I think it stung him sometimes. He supported me to. I was there for Sam, and Dad was there for me." I summed up, thinking back to a specific example.

_It was October, nearly five weeks after one of the worst nights of my life._

_Of Sam's life._

_The kid was fucking ten years old, his worst night should have been that time he peed the bed, or got a sliver pulled from his finger. It shouldn't be the nights his mother died in a fire and some bastard tied him to a bed._

_I clenched my fists in anger, taking deep breaths as I waited for my brother to finish up in the bathroom._

_"Come on Sammy! Get a move on." I hollered, looking at the time and calculating how long it would take the two of us to walk to school._

_This was my little brother's first day back at school since...since what happened._

_Sam was nervous._

_I was terrified._

_I didn't think he was ready, but Dad had enrolled both of us when we got to town on Friday. He had informed me that he wanted us both in class on Monday. I hadn't argued, because I knew that eventually Sammy was going to have to get back school, and now seemed as good of a time as any._

_But I just couldn't shake the feeling in my gut, a dread that was weighing on me._

_"Ready." Sam declared, standing in front of me dressed with his backpack on his shoulders and an anxious expression on his face._

_"Alright then, let's get going kiddo." I instructed nonchalantly, pretending that my stomach wasn't churning at the mere though of having Sammy out of my sight for nearly seven hours._

_We strolled to the school, Sam chewing on his bottom lip and my arm slung over his small shoulders in an attempt to ease his apparent apprehension._

_We arrived in time to hear the bell ring and watch as all the other kids began to run inside._

_"You want me to walk you to class?" I asked._

_Sam shook his head._

_"No, they showed me and Dad around the school on Friday. I already know where it is."_

_"Yeah but...I can come in any way if you want." I offered._

_Sam shook his head._

_"I can do it." He insisted._

_This kid._

_This brave fucking kid._

_Shaking in his shoes, biting his bottom lip, but still willing to go it alone._

_"Alright, if you're sure."_

_"I am."_

_"Okay, I'll be back at three-thirty sharp. You need me before that you go to the office and tell them to call me. They have my number." I stated._

_Sam nodded in understanding._

_"I'm serious Sammy. I'll come if you need me.'" I said, bending down to get in my little brother's line of sight and be sure he got what I was saying._

_"I know Dean. Can I go now? I don't want to be late."_

_"Sure, you little dork." I mocked playfully, mussing up his shaggy hair._

_Sam glared up at me and immediately began fixing his unruly mane._

_"I'm not a dork." He whined._

_"Whatever you say. Now get moving."_

_I nudged the skinny boy in the direction of the school._

_Sam trudged toward the building, I watched as he got to the front doors._

_He looked back at me and I gave him the most reassuring smile I could muster, before he entered the school._

_My mask of confidence slid away as the large doors slammed closed, sufficiently blocking my little brother from my sight._

_My anxiety grew the second Sam disappeared from my view._

_I moved to the side of the school where the field was located and climbed onto the bleachers, tugging my jacked tighter around my body as I took a seat._

_There was no way in hell I was going to class. My high school was on the other side of town for some jacked up reason, and there was no way I was going that far. Not on Sam's first day back at school since what happened._

_I sat holding the cell phone in my hand. Half of me was hoping it would ring, so I could go get my little brother and take him back to our room where I could keep him safe. The other half of me was wishing the phone would remain silent, because that would mean that Sammy was okay and that maybe he could just spend one day being a normal kid._

_Sam Winchester had never been destined for normal._

_Less than an hour later, the cell in my hand released a shrill sound that only lasted a split second before I answered it._

_"Dean Winchester." I answered._

_"Hello Dean, this is Kathy. I'm the secretary at your brother's school."_

_I was already jumping from the bleachers and moving toward the building._

_"What's wrong with Sam?" I questioned, getting to the point, the only point that ever mattered._

_"Your brother has locked himself in the bathroom stall-_

_"On my way." I declared, having no need for any further explanation._

_I shut my phone and slid it back in my pocket as I jogged into the building._

_I moved quickly down the hall toward the cluster of adults I could see surrounding a door._

_"Where's Sam?" I called out as I approached._

_A male teacher turned to me_

_"Who are you?" He questioned unnecessarily._

_"Where's my brother?" I barked, having no patience for introductions._

_"He's in the bathroom." The man said, nodding his head at the door to the left._

_I ignored th multitude of inquiries that were thrown my way as I pushed through the crowd, pulling the bathroom door open and marching inside._

_There was another man in the room, crouched by a closed stall door. He stood at my entrance and turned to face me._

_"Sammy?" I called out, ignoring the adult before me._

_"He's in there." He stated pointing at the stall._

_I nodded curtly, because that much was obvious._

_"You're Dean I assume? I'm Mr. Matthews, the Principal here."_

_I looked around the man to the stall containing my brother, having no interest in his name or position at the school._

_"He was coming into class, his teacher gave him a pat on the back, after which Sam became distressed and panicked. He ran in here and hasn't come out since." He explained, noticing clearly where my attention was focused._

_I took in the information, quickly realizing that pat on the back was the first physical contact Sam had with anyone outside of Dad and I since September._

_"I'll take care of him." I declared, dismissing the stranger as politely as I possibly could._

_Luckily, the man wasn't a complete moron; he took the cue for what it was and made his exit._

_"Hey Sammy." I greeted casually, standing directly on the other side of the stall door that separated my brother and I._

_"It's just the two of us little brother. So how about you open the door and let me know what's going on." I requested, waiting patiently for Sam to respond._

_A moment later I heard a sniff, the shuffle of feet, and then the sound metal sliding against wood. My brother tentatively pushed the door open after unlocking it._

_The tear stained cheeks and sorrowful puppy dog eyes that stared up at me sent my protective instincts through the roof._

_I knelt down and immediately thumbed away the trailing tears._

_"What's going on kiddo?" I asked softly._

_Sam sniffled before throwing himself into my arms._

_"Hey, it's alright buddy. I'm here. You're safe." I soothed, rubbing up and down the young boy's trembling back with one hand as my other carded through his hair._

_Thin fingers bunched up the back of my shirt as Sam buried his face against my collar bone._

_"You're okay Sammy." I cooed, feeling shallow, stuttered breath against my neck as the kid struggled to gain control._

_I held my little brother for another couple minutes, until his shaking eased and his breathing evened out. Then I released the young boy and pulled him away from me. I placed a hand on either side of Sam's face, sliding his bangs off his forehead so I could get a clear view of those hazel eyes._

_"Talk to me Sam." I ordered gently._

_"It's just like he said." My little brother whispered._

_"I was going to class and my teacher just...he just patted me on the back when he said welcome...he was just being nice...but...but it made me...it reminded me..." Sam stuttered out through emotion._

_"It scared you." I summed up, not needing the specifics. Sam had been weary of people and any form of physical contact for the past few months, so it wasn't hard to imagine that a pat on the back from a complete stranger hand sent the kid into a panic._

_"Yeah." Sam muttered, his face falling as his gaze dropped to the ground._

_"Hey, none of that." I warned, my tone serious._

_"You don't get to feel embarrassed about this. It's not your fault." I stated sternly, because my little brother needed to understand that._

_"I just feel stupid." He confessed quietly, bottom lip trembling, making my heart ache._

_"Don't. Don't you dare." I admonished._

_Sam remained quiet._

_"Look at me." I ordered._

_Typical to his normal behaviour, Sam paid no mind to my command._

_"Now Sam." I demanded, tone less aggressive, but still authoritative._

_Timid eyes came up to meet mine, they were full of pain, shame, and fear. None of which I was the least bit okay with._

_"You are_ _**not** _ _stupid. You are smart and brave and none of this is your fault. You hearing me Sam?_ _**None** _ _of it."_

_My little brother examined me, his young gaze searching my expression for honesty in a way that was far too mature for his ten years._

_Eventually his head bobbed up and down._

_"I need you to tell me you understand. I need to hear you say it Sammy." I said, thumbing away the fresh tears escaping from those damn puppy dog eyes._

_"I understand, Dean."_

_I waited, not yet convinced._

_"It's not my fault." Sam choked out._

_"You're damn right little brother." I replied, as I pulled the young boy into me once again._

_Small arms wrapped around my body, while I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and blink away the moisture gathering in my eyes._

_"Can we go now Dean?" Sam asked, his question muffled as he pressed his face into my shirt._

_"Sure buddy." I answered, as though that had not been my every intention from the moment my cell phone rang._

_I placed a quick kiss on to my kid brother's head, his hair tickling my face as I squeezed him tightly for a moment before slowly releasing him._

_Sam stood back, allowing me to get to my feet, as he glanced nervously at the bathroom door._

_"It's alright man." I encouraged, pulling Sam into my side as we walked toward the exit._

_My little brother wrapped his arms around my midsection and hid his face in my jacket. I didn't object, understanding his lack of desire to come face to face with all the adults likely still hanging around on the other side of the door._

_"How are you Sam?" The principal questioned. He bent down when he was speaking, but my brother simply nuzzled himself further into my clothing._

_"He's fine. I'm taking him home." I announced confidently, in an authoritative John Winchester tone that would hopefully ward off any further questions._

_The first adult I had spoken to upon entering the school, brashly objected to my plan of action, "You can't do that. Only a parent can-_

_"It's alright Mr Henson, their father told me on Friday that Dean was permitted to pull Sam from school if necessary." The principal expounded._

_I raised my eyebrows at the information, unaware that my dad had made such arrangements, but grateful as hell that he had. I sent Mr. Matthews a nod of appreciation before making my way out of the school, Sammy clinging to me as we walked._

_The trip back to the motel took longer, due to my constant attempts not to step on the small feet that were constantly tangling with mine._

_It wasn't until we got inside the room that Sam finally detached himself from my side._

_"You want to watch some T.V. or something?" I asked as I closed and locked the door._

_My brother nodded solemnly, standing awkwardly between the two beds, glancing from one to the other._

_"We'll camp out on my bed, it's closer to the television."_

_Sam went wilfully with my decision and dropped onto the left side of my bed, waiting for me to get settled and comfortable before tucking himself into my side._

_It didn't take long for the young boy to fall to sleep, forehead resting against my hip and arm thrown over my legs. I wasn't surprised. His sleeping patterns had been off for a while now, and the young boy seemed to be in a constant state of exhaustion since that sick fuck got a hold of him._

_I startled at the ring of my cell, pulling it out quickly and flicking it open before it could wake Sam._

_"Hello?" I asked, not having bothered to look at the caller I.D._

_"Dean."_

_My father's gruff voice filled my ear._

_"Hey Dad." I greeted quietly, still aware of the sleeping boy at my side._

_"I got a call from your school. You want to tell me why you didn't go to any of your classes today?" John questioned in a stern voice._

_"Sammy needed me." I answered simply._

_"Did he go to school?"_

_"Yeah...but it didn't work out." I explained vaguely, just in case there was a chance that Sam was listening._

_"Damn." My dad cursed "I was hoping he'd do okay."_

_"Me too, listen Dad, I know you want him back at school. And I get it, I do. But he's not ready yet." I explained earnestly._

_"Dean." The older man sighed, but I cut him off before he could continue._

_"I know he can't hide inside forever. And we will have to bite the bullet eventually. But Dad you didn't see him today-_

_"Dean-_

_"We will work on it, I swear. But please don't make me send him back, not yet." I pleaded._

_"Dean. It's okay."_

_I stalled at that reply. I had already been preparing a well-organized argument. I had not expected John to agree so readily._

_"What?" I asked, making no attempt to hide my surprise._

_A good natured chuckle came through the phone._

_"Dean I believe you. If you say Sam isn't ready. Then he's not ready. We'll try again in a couple weeks."_

_I took in my father's words, my mind reeling at how simple this conversation had become._

_"How is Sam doing now?"_

_I reacted easily to the question, giving a report on Sam was something I actually knew how to do._

_"He's okay. He calmed down pretty quick. He's sleeping right now."_

_"Good. Hopefully he'll get some peaceful rest."_

_"Hopefully." I echoed the wishful thought._

_There was a moment of silence, which I spent staring down at the kid sleeping next to me, rubbing my hand up and down his back, willing the gentle touch to soften his dreams._

_"You sure you boys are alright? You need me to come back?"_

_I considered the request for a moment, knowing that I was always more at ease when John was home._

_But Sam wasn't. The stupid kid tried to put on his brave face with our father, pretending to be fearless, and feeling ashamed every time he woke screaming from a nightmare or shied away from the older man._

_Dad also struggled being around Sam. The guilt radiated off him and I could see the pain in his eyes every time his youngest son flinched at his touch._

_No matter how many times I explained to my father that Sam just couldn't handle physical contact from anybody after his nightmares, John just didn't get it. He would try to comfort the kid and instead would end up causing Sam greater fear._

_No, it was better for both of them that they have some space for now._

_"No Dad, it's all good. Nothing I can't handle." I replied casually._

_"Alright. Call me if you need anything. Watch out for Sam."_

_I smirked at the typical order._

_"Yes sir."_

_I closed the cell and placed it on the bedside table, relaxing against the headboard and staring absently at the soap opera playing out on the T.V. screen._

_My attention turned back to little brother._

_His breathing was deep and even as his body relaxed into the mattress, feet wedged underneath my legs. I thought Sam was sleeping, but then I heard him speak._

_"I'm tired of hurting, Dean."_

_The soft whisper stole my breath. I opened and closed my mouth, searching for a response but I was not able to find one before Sam dropped off to sleep._

_I stared down at the shaggy head by my side, sliding long brown locks off my brother's young face with shaky hands. I choked back a sob, my emotions becoming too much as I felt my cheeks dampen with with tears._

_I wish to God I could grant my kid's simple request._

_I would give anything to take the pain from my little brother._

_I would do anything to stop the hurt._

"His back must be doing better."

I arrived to the present at the observation, having been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I had forgotten what was happening.

"Yeah I guess so." I agreed, because Sam had been in the shower for awhile now, and I hadn't heard any noise that would indicate a tumble. So at least the kid could remain vertical for some length of time.

"I want to talk with him when he comes back down, if he's not too tired." Bobby said, in such a way that I could tell he was looking for my permission.

"Even if he's tired. He won't sleep. Not after the nightmare he just had." I reasoned, the bitterness thick in my tone.

Because I was fucking sick of this.

Sick of all of it.

My little brother in pain and exhausted, all the while being haunted by the bastard that hurt him all those years ago.

It shouldn't have happened in the first place.

And the young man sure as hell shouldn't be having to deal with it again.

It wasn't fair.

Why did bad shit always happen to Sam?

What did he do to deserve the universe constantly dumping on him?

"Dean?"

I looked up, seeing Bobby's eyes on me, a look of curiosity and concern patterning his face.

"Yeah, umm okay. Only if he's up to it though." I stated, staring levelly at the older man, who nodded in agreement.

"And if he gets agitated or upset we're done. We can save your talk for another day." I clarified, laying down the rules for the hunter.

"Sure thing." Bobby complied.

I knew the man well enough to know he would never intentionally hurt my little brother, but Sam was fragile right now. He was hurting and frightened, so while the kid might normally be all in for heart-to-heart chick-flick moments, he might not be in the right head space for them at this time. But I knew what Bobby wanted to say to the young man was of significance.

It was important that Sam understood our surrogate uncle did not blame him for what happened back when he was just a child.

It was important that my brother understood none of what happened then, and none of what was happening now was his fault.

And it was about damn time that someone other than me told him that.

Sam needed reassurance that he was not broken or damaged.

He needed to know that he had nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.

My little brother needed to feel loved and accepted.

And I knew I could trust Bobby not to make him feel like an outsider.

I could trust him to help me protect Sam and restore the kid's faith in himself.

"He'll be alright Dean." The older hunter assured me, no doubt clearly able to depict my concern.

I nodded.

"Your damn right he will."


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm going to go see what's taking that kid so long." I declared.

Bobby glanced up from where he was reading at his desk and gave me a nod.

Even the older hunter hadn't neglected to notice that the shower had been running for the past fifty-two minutes.

Sam has never been one to be rushed, and god knows he had enough girlie hair to keep him under the water longer than I had to be. But nearly an hour was a long time, even by his standards.

I marched up the stairs and down the hall, stopping in front of the bathroom door and pounding on it.

"Sam! What the hell are you doing in there?"

I heard the water switch off.

"I'm showering." Sam responded shortly, clearly not impressed that he had to explain that to me.

"Yeah well I think you're clean. Besides, if you take any longer we are going to have to reimburse Bobby for his water bill." I pointed out.

I received no response, not even a snarky comment, which made me feel uneasy.

"Sam? You okay in there?" I asked.

"Fine."

Did my little brother seriously still not know that I could detect his lies coming from a mile off.

"You need help?" I questioned.

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped.

"Well it was just a couple days ago that you couldn't get your own damn shirt off, so excuse me if I don't buy that."

Sam grumbled a response, something about annoying big brothers, before the door separating us swung open.

Steam flooded out of the bathroom, filling the hallway.

"Dude. You trying to make your own personal sauna in there?" I asked, just barely able to see my brother past all the fog.

"I was not in there that long, Dean." Sam sighed petulantly.

"Yeah bro, you were. If you don't believe me just look at the cloud we are standing in right now." I pointed out with a smirk, gesturing around us.

The vapour cleared and I was able to see my little brother shake his head in exasperation, his drenched hair swinging from side-to-side.

It wasn't until Sam walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waste, that I noticed the violent red shade of his skin.

"Whaoh! Hold up. What the hell?" I barked, reaching out to lightly grasp Sam's arm, only to have him hiss and pull back. I released my hold, but moved so I was standing in front of my brother, blocking him from proceeding to the bedroom.

The young man's skin was bright red. Luckily his face looked normal, but everything else, from his neck all the way down his arms and torso, was red.

"You want to tell me why you look like a tomato?" I asked, my tone far from joking.

"It's nothing." Sam dismissed, moving to side-step me.

"Bullshit." I spat, stepping in his way.

"The water was just a little hot, that's all." He huffed.

"A little hot? That looks like first degree burn to me. What the hell were you doing? I mean, god, don't you have any sense!? Were you trying to burn your fucking skin off?" I shouted in aggravation, my gaze wondering over the discoloured skin.

My brother didn't get defensive, like I assumed he would. No, instead Sam's face fell and he directed his gaze down to the floor.

"Sammy? What's going on?" I inquired, my voice softer as I angled my head down to get a view of his face.

Sam brought his eyes up to meet mine, they were so full of despair that I was almost relieved when he directed them back to his feet.

"I just...I...I wanted to feel clean." He whispered brokenly.

My hear clenched.

"Sammy." I waited patiently for his hazel orbs to find my face.

"You are clean. You have always been clean. That bastard never tainted you. Not then, and sure as shit not now." I promised confidently.

Sam vigorously shook his head.

"You don't understand Dean."

I allowed him that, because no matter how much I wanted to, I would never really understand the damage that pervert did to my little brother. That was a fact I had been struggling to accept for over a decade. And I was no closer to accepting it now than I had been when I was fourteen.

"What don't I understand?" I questioned gently.

Sam pulled in a long breath, letting it out slow as he shuffled from foot to foot; the hand not holding his towel was twitching nervously.

"When I dream...when I dream about what happened. I can feel him on me. I can smell him and hear him and **feel** him Dean. And when I wake up...I don't know...it's like he's still here. Like he's still touching me...and I just...I need to get him off." Sam finished, his voice pleading as watery eyes met mine, imploring me to understand.

"Alright buddy, alright." I said, nodding that I got the message, because that was what Sam needed me to do.

Sam relaxed a little, a fraction of relief crossing his features.

"You know that he's gone though, right Sam? You know that he will never hurt you again. That no one will ever hurt you like that again. Right?" I questioned, needing my little brother to comprehend, needing to be sure that he knew he was safe.

Sam nodded.

"Yeah Dean, I know...it's just...I don't know, my head's all messed up." He admitted with a sigh.

"That's understandable man. After having that memory chucked back in our faces, of course it is going to mess with you."

My brother nodded again.

"But we've got to find a different way to handle this. You can't keep showering all the time, you'll end up looking like a permanent prune. And you sure as hell can't go frying your skin like this again." I started, glancing down at the kid's chest and cringing in sympathy.

"Yeah...I didn't really realize just how hot the water was until I got out." Sam confessed honestly as he rolled his shoulders in discomfort.

"I'd hope so. If you were in there any longer you'd be peeling." I muttered.

We stood there few moments longer. I examined the inflamed skin on my brother's chest, arms, and neck, even circling around to see how his back looked. The bright right on his back was only lessened by the bruises that still lingered there.

"Can I go put clothes on now?" He questioned, a smirk of amusement on his face.

"Please. And If you could not take an hour, that'd be great." I commented.

"Why? What's the rush?" He wondered, eyebrows up as he turned toward our shared bedroom.

"Bobby wants to talk to you.

Sam stilled at that, his long body going rigid.

"It's not like that."

"Not like what?"

"C'mon, I know what you're thinking. He just wants to talk to you. Nothing has changed."

My brother didn't look convinced.

"Just get dressed. And find some of that aloe cream to put on your skin." I instructed.

Sam frowned, but obediently shuffled into the bedroom.

I made my way back downstairs.

"Everything alright?" Bobby questioned once I wandered into the study.

I shrugged, because it wasn't really, but I wasn't about to go into it.

"Did he do this before? The whole showering after a nightmare thing?"

The inquiry shouldn't have surprised me. The older hunter always noticed a whole lot more than I ever gave him credit for.

"No." I responded automatically, because that was definitely new.

Bobby looked surprised.

"No, he never did that. When he was younger and he would have dreams about...about what happened, he would wake up sobbing. He would be shaking and crying so hard the kid could barely breathe. I mean Sam has always had to deal with nightmares, but those ones were always worse."

The older hunter's eyebrows rose in question.

"Usually after a nightmare he would be freaked out and everything, but normally he'd just crawl into bed with me and would be okay."

I left out the necessary cuddling, because I had a reputation to maintain.

"But after those night terrors...there was no getting the kid back to sleep at least not in the bed." I recalled.

"What did you do?" The older hunter asked, sounding genuinely curious.

I shrugged.

"Sometimes we would sit in front of the tv, on the couch or the floor, anywhere that wasn't the bed. On occasion, if the nightmare was bad enough, we would have to get out of the room. Go for a walk or just sit outside. Whatever worked."

As I was speaking, I thought back to the first time that just camping out in front of the television hadn't been enough to calm my kid brother down.

_It was two weeks after...after it happened._

_Two weeks, and nothing was getting better._

_Sammy was still pale, he was still terrified, he still flinched away from Dad, he still wasn't eating much, and he still wasn't sleeping well. The poor kid had dark smudges under his eyes as a result of all the nightmare infested nights._

_He was asleep now, thank god. Sammy was worn out and in desperate need of some shut-eye._

_I had just gotten off the phone with our father who had called to check up on us. He left a few days ago and, contrary to his usual pattern, he called every night at dinner. I knew he wanted to be here, but he couldn't stand seeing his youngest son so traumatized and I knew that it killed him the way Sam would flinch away from his touch. So he had gone off on a hunt._

_It was a bit of a relief. I love my dad, we both did, but my little brother was much more at ease without him here. Not only because he often seemed startled by the older man presence, but because he didn't feel ashamed or like he was letting our father down every time he displayed fear._

_Yes, Sam was much more relaxed without Dad around, which was probably the only reason the kid had managed to fall asleep at seven at night...well that and the fact that he was practically a walking zombie._

_I set the cellphone on the table, double-checked the salt lines and the locked door, then I dropped into bed. I usually bunked with Sam, but he was sprawled across his mattress, and I didn't want to wake him._

_Sure, it might have been hours before the time I would usually go to sleep, but Sam wasn't the only one awake most nights._

_I closed me eyes, wishing the same thing I had wished every night for the past couple weeks, that my little brother would have just one rest free of terror._

_Just one fucking night._

_Apparently my wishes weren't worth a damn._

_Figures._

_It was only a few hours later, three according to the glowing numbers emitting form the clock on the nightstand, when I was ripped from my own crappy dream to the sound of my little brother screaming my name.._

_It was always my name._

_Like he was pleading for me to come, to save him._

_I wondered how many times he had screamed for me that night before I finally came._

_I pushed the thoughts away and launched out of my bed and scrambled over to Sam's, pulling the small trembling boy into my arms._

_I held him against my chest and began to rock back and forth. I slid my hand up and down the young boy's back and through his hair._

_After frantically arising from a night terror, it was touch that brought Sam back to reality. It wasn't sound or sight, it was always touch._

_That fact didn't prevent me from murmuring soft assurances to my brother as I worked to sooth him._

_Like every night before, every night since...since the incident, Sammy was sobbing and shaking so hard that it was almost difficult to keep a hold on him without hurting the kid._

_"Sammy, it's okay kiddo. You're okay. You're safe. I'm here. I'm here little brother."_

_The moment the young boy's bony arms wrapped around my midsection, I knew that he knew who I was and what was going on. I let him cling to me as I proceeded to hush him and comb my fingers through his unruly hair._

_"Sshh, it's okay buddy. you're okay. I got you. I've got you little brother." I whispered, ducking my head so my mouth was closer to his ear._

_"I'm here." I promised, hastily swiping at my own eyes._

_God it always wrecked me to see Sam like this, to hold him as he fell apart.._

_In time, the heart-wrenching cries began to taper off, but the thin frame wrapped up against me continued to tremble. Sam's skin felt cold and clammy, something I noticed when I sled my palm up to rest against the back of his neck._

_Normally when my little brother woke from nightmares he was soaked with sweat, but these dreams were different. Ever since he started having nightmares about what had happened Sam would awake chilled to the bone. Like he was in shock._

_I tugged the comforter up, pulling it over the vibrating child as I held him even tighter._

_"Everything is okay Sammy. You're safe. It was just a dream. Okay kiddo? Just a dream. He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore. It was just a dream." I urged my brother to believe my words, feeling a fraction of satisfaction when he nodded against my chest._

_"That's my boy." I encouraged softly._

_Sam was sniffling on occasion and was only wracked by the occasional tremor when I loosened my hold._

_I pulled him back just a little, so I could get a look at his face._

_The despair that I saw there had me tempted to turn away. Instead I wiped away his lingering tears with my thumbs and stared steadily into the sorrowful eyes that were begging me to make things right._

_I wished more than anything I could._

_There was nothing I wouldn't give to undo what had been done to my little brother._

_Sam yawned tiredly and pressed his head back against my chest._

_He was just so damn tired._

_I kept my arms around him and leaned back against the headboard, thinking that maybe...just maybe Sam would fall back asleep. It hadn't happened before, not since after what happened. Every time he woke up from a nightmare he had to get off the bed, and we'd have to camp-out on the couch if we had one, or on the floor if we didn't But maybe this time, since the kid was so dead tired, maybe he could fall asleep on the bed._

_Yeah, right._

_As soon as I started to lean back, Sam sprang out of my arms._

_"No Dean. No, I can't. Not on the bed. I want off the bed." He panicked, frantically trying to untangle himself from the covers and get up off the mattress._

_"Alright Sammy. Alright. Take it easy." I soothed, gently tugging the blankets off of him and holding him steady as he climbed out of the bed._

_As I followed Sam I noticed how hard the kid was trembling, he could hardly stand his body was shaking so intensely._

_"What's going on Sammy. What do you need?" I questioned, watching as my brother's gaze rapidly travelled around the room._

_"I-I...we need to get out. Can we go?"_

_"Go where Sammy?" I inquired patiently, bending down in front the shuttering child._

_"Anywhere. Anywhere Dean. Just not here. I can't be here." He explained, his voice cracking with emotion._

_"But it's safe here Sammy. You just had a bad dream. That's all. You're safe here. I'm here."_

_"I know. But I can't be in here. It looks too much like-like the room from my dreams. The room he took me to. I can't be here. Can we just go. Please De-?"_

_My heart clenched at the soft request and the shortened version of my name._

_Was this kid trying to rip my heart out?_

_"Sure Sammy. We can go."_

_I would have done anything for him._

_Anything._

_So if he wanted to vacate the room. That's what we were damn well going to do._

_"Come here. Get your coat on buddy." I instructed, holding Sam's jacket out in front of him and waiting for him to slide his skinny arms through the sleeves. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweats as pyjamas, so I saw no need for him to change._

_As the young boy stepped into his shoes, I thought of where we could walk to at ten o'clock at night. There was a diner across the street that was open twenty-four hours. But that wasn't an option. We weren't escaping one place full of memories, just to head straight to another one._

_Sam stood by the door, his head twitching from left to right as he proceeded to search the room, and his body proceeding to tremble as he waited._

_"Alright kiddo, let's go." I said, opening the door, feeling the cool night breeze travel through my own sweatpants. We stepped outside, Sam's small hand immediately latching on to mine._

_It was strange._

_For the past couple weeks, Sam loathed leaving the hotel room in the daylight. Having no interest in going out into the world and coming across people. But tonight he seemed more than willing to venture outside, as long as he could escape the room._

_I didn't bother questioning the odd behaviour._

_Trauma tended to do strange things to people._

_We made our way down the street, my place slow as to remain in-sync with Sam's. We were in a nicer area. It wasn't a suburb, but we didn't have to worry about being mugged or anything._

_Dad had been choosing safer locations for the past little while. I had no question as to why and I greatly appreciated it. It was one less thing for me to worry about while I took care of Sam._

_I recognized the two large yellow arches glowing just a short ways down the street and headed toward them._

_"McDonald's?" Sam asked softly._

_"Yeah? Is that okay? Thought maybe you would want a Happy Meal."_

_My little brother's lips twitched up in reply, and that was all the response I required._

_We made it to the fast-food chain, squinting at the florescent light as we entered the building._

_Luckily it was mostly empty. There were several visible employees behind the counter, and an elderly couple at a booth, other than that the place was bare._

_I released a sigh of relief._

_Sam may have wanted out of the room, but I doubted that he had any desire to interact with other individuals._

_I walked up to the counter and my little brother went from standing at my side to hiding behind my back, all the while maintaining a death-grip on my hand._

_The cashier gave the kid a curious look, but made no comment as she took my order._

_A hamburger Happy Meal and a Bigmac with fries and a coke. I paid with one hand, but I required two to carry the tray that was set on the counter._

_"Sammy." I called softly, turning to get a look at the kid._

_He looked up at me._

_"You need to let go." I declared gently._

_Sam's eyes grew wide in panic._

_"Just for a second, so that I can grab the tray."_

_There seemed to be a very serious debate going on in the young boys head._

_Fear versus rationality._

_Once the small fingers began to release my larger ones, I knew which side had won out._

_I swear my little brother was the only ten year old boy on the planet who was able to push his fear down and allow reason to take control._

_Although, that didn't mean that fear wasn't still there. The second my hand was free I felt a tug at the bottom of my jacket. Sam had the material bunch up in his hand as he clung to it._

_I offered a reassuring smile and picked up the tray. We made our way to the booth placed in the furthest corner of the restaurant, distancing ourselves from the few individuals that were in there._

_Sam slid into the booth without releasing my clothing, and then he tugged at them, clearly telling me that he wanted me to sit beside him, and not across from him._

_I had no problem with that._

_I placed the Happy Meal in front of my brother, watching out of the corner of my eye as he timidly began to open it up and pull the contents out._

_He grabbed the toy and looked over at me, a question in his expression._

_I smirked._

_"Go for it Sammy."_

_Normally I would make him wait until after his meal, because if I didn't he would be to busy playing with it to eat at all._

_But at this point I just wanted the little squirt to smile._

_And he did._

_Once he got the packaging off, he uncovered a plastic spider-man watch. His eyes lit up the second he realized what it was and he held it in his hands as though it were made of glass, slowly turning it about and closely examining it._

_"You want to put it on?" I asked after a moment._

_Sam nodded excitedly, placing his prized possession in my hands, and presenting his wrist._

_A wrist that still displayed evidence of being tied to a bed._

_I tensed at the sight. A rage spreading through me that was becoming far too familiar._

_That fucking bastard._

_My blood boiled at the reminder._

_The reminder of the course ropes that held my little brother in place._

_The reminder of the blood seeping from underneath them because he had been struggling so desperately to get free._

_The reminder of the torn skin I had bandaged._

_It was a small scar, and it wouldn't be permanent. But the sight of it was enough to send be back there, back into that godforsaken room._

_Sam shook his arm impatiently and I snapped back to attention._

_I placed the watch over the reminder and latched it into place._

_My little brother pulled his arm back and held it in front of him, admiring the new accessory and then looking up at me._

_"It looks awesome Sam." I declared, knowing that the midget was awaiting my approval._

_The kid beamed at my words. The wide grin spreading across his face, momentarily erasing the lines of fear and dulling the evidence of exhaustion that had made residence their over the past couple weeks._

_Sam's dimply smile was enough to shove down my rage, forcing it to stop boiling through my veins and settle back down in the pit of my stomach, where it would patiently wait until it was time to arise again._

_We finished our meal, Sam almost missing his mouth several times as he was too busy ogling his watch to watch where he was putting his food._

_I couldn't help but chuckle every time my brother accidentally smeared ketchup across his face or dropped it onto his lap._

_Not only did Sam eat his entire meal (which hadn't happened in fifteen days), I even managed to talk the kid into playing in the Play-Place._

_Not alone, mind you._

_There were no other children in there this late at night, but he still wouldn't go in alone, although I could tell by his shuffling feat that he really wanted to go try out the twisty slide._

_But I would do anything for Sam, including crawling around in tunnels and sliding down slides that were much too small for me. I didn't even care about the questioning looks I would receive from the employees, because the only look I really noticed was the one of pure glee on my kid brother's face._

_We played in there until midnight, at which point it was to be closed up, which was fine because by then Sam could hardly hold his head up and was yawning every other second._

_"C'mon Sammy." I encouraged, after I had slid his shoes on his feet for him and took his hand to lead him from the restaurant._

_After about the third time the young boy managed to trip on his own feet, I snickered fondly and lifted him into my arms._

_I frowned as I held him, because he felt even lighter than he had last time I carried him this way, which hadn't been very long ago._

_I would insure that the kid ate more, even if that meant feeding him nothing but McDonald's for the next little while._

_Sam's skinny arms wrapped around my neck as he rested his head on my shoulder, nuzzling it against me._

_I couldn't help but release a full out laugh at my little brother's cat-like antics._

_"Just go to sleep kiddo. I've got you." I promised softly into his ear._

_"I know Dean. You always got me." My brother mumbled tiredly, closing his eyes, his soft puffs of breath hitting my neck._

_I swallowed the lump that appeared in my throat, and cursed the moisture I could feel gathering in my eyes._

_"Always Sammy._ _**Always** _ _." I vowed._

"Maybe I should save our chat for another day?"

Bobby's question penetrated my memories and pulled me back to the present.

I shook my head.

"No, I mean the kid's a mess. And emotionally he's...well...a little unstable. But he needs to hear what you have to stay. Especially now." I stated.

The older man made no argument with me decision. Bobby had always been the first to acknowledge the fact that I knew Sam better than anyone else, maybe even the kid himself.

I dropped onto the couch, my mind running in circles.

Sam needed to know that Bobby didn't see him any differently.

He needed to know that he wasn't broken.

That would make him feel a little better...hopefully.

I sighed in frustration and ran my hands through my hair.

I hated being uncertain. Uncertain about what my brother needed. I was always supposed to know what Sammy needed.

"Oh, and Sam's going to come down looking like a cherry, just don't point it out."

The hunter gave me a curious look, but nodded obediently.

Moments later my brother came shuffling down the steps.

He was sporting a hoodie and sweatpants, wincing as the fabric rubbed against his aggravated skin.

His hair was straggly and dripping onto his shoulders, and there were dark shadows under his eyes emphasizing the young man's level of exhaustion.

Sam stopped at the entrance to the room and shifted about nervously, his eyes on the floor.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He questioned timidly, peeking over at Bobby from under his bangs.

The kid looked miserable. He looked as though he was weighted down by the fear of impending doom; as though he were about to be reprimanded, or scolded, or hurt.

Did Sam not know that I would never let that happen? That I'd never let anyone hurt him.

Of course he didn't know that, because I already had let someone hurt him, in just about every way possible.

"Yeah son, take a seat."

Bobby nodded to one of the chairs across from the desk.

Sam sat down on the edge of the seat, his legs jittering anxiously.

I dropped into the chair next to his.

My brother glanced in my direction and immediately relaxed, his legs stilling as he slid back to sit more comfortably.

I smiled a little at that.

Even though I had screwed up multiple times, Sam still trusted me to keep him safe.

And that meant more than I could ever hope to express.

That meant everything.

"Sam, I need you to understand something-

"Bobby I understand if-

"No, just listen."

"But Bobby you don't have to-

"Damnit boy would you just shut your trap for one bloody minute!" The older hunter ordered.

I smirked at Bobby's frustration.

Welcome to my life old man.

Shockingly enough, my brother actually managed to follow an order and remain silent.

"Sam, all I am trying to say is what happened to you, what you boys told me about the other day. That whole situation, it doesn't change a thing."

Sam pulled his gaze up off of the desk to stare at Bobby.

"I mean it son. What was done to you was not your fault and it didn't change you, or how I see you." The older hunter declared.

"How?" Sam whispered.

"What?" Bobby asked.

"How could it not? How could you not see me differently?"

The man seated across from us looked about as confused as I felt.

"Why would I?" He inquired.

"Because I was weak." Sam confessed, shame colouring his face as his eyes fell.

"No you weren't! What the hell Sam?! You were-

"Dean. I believe your brother was speaking to me."

I huffed in irritation, but reluctantly closed my mouth and let Bobby proceed, hoping that he wouldn't drop the ball and shatter my lite brother's fragile self-worth.

"Sam, you are not and never have been weak."

"But I am Bobby! I let him trick me and then I couldn't get away from him. I wasn't strong enough. Even now I can't seem to get away from him. I'm a grown man and I wake up screaming...I..I cant..."

I was literally biting my tongue to keep from jumping in when Sam faded off and stared helplessly down at his trembling hands.

"You going to let me finish now?"

My brother nodded, indicating that he was ready and willing to listen.

"When I was growing up, my old man used to beat the shit out of me."

My attention tore from Sam and moved over to Bobby at the casual statement.

"I'd try to fight him off. But he always managed to kick my ass. Does that mean I was weak?"

Sam's head shot up, eyes wide as he viciously shook his head.

"No Bobby! Of course not! You were just a kid!" He exclaimed.

My eyebrows rose at the realization of where the hunter was going with this.

Sam hadn't quite caught on yet, he just proceeded to stare earnestly across the desk.

"And you weren't Sam? For godsake you were only ten years old!"

Realization dawned on my little brother's expression, but it was quickly replaced with misery.

"But it still has me so messed up. I mean the guy is dead and I still can't get over what happened." He explained.

"My old man is dead to Sam. That doesn't mean what he did doesn't still screw with my brain." Bobby admitted gruffly.

My brother gave the hunter a sceptical look.

"I'm not messing with you boy. That's the truth. There are times when I still hear that drunk bastard's voice in my head."

"But you're not scared like I am, Bobby. I mean...I'm...I'm terrified." Sam's voice was so hushed as his eyes filled with tears and he looked away.

"I get scared to."

My brother shook his head, not believing the older man's words.

"No you don't. You aren't still scared of him."

"I'm not scared of him. Didn't say I was. I'm scared of becoming him."

The confession was made calmly as Bobby stared intently into my little brother's watery gaze.

I watched as they proceeded to look at each other. Sam studying Bobby's face for the truth, and Bobby allowing the kid to do so.

After a moment the young man released a resigned sight and swiped as his eyes. Sam's small nod indicated that he seemed to be accepting what Bobby had said.

"I don't see you any differently Sam. You are the same big-brained, inquisitive, kind-hearted kid that you have always been." The hunter declared, and unmistakable fondness in his tone.

A shy smile flickered across my little brother's face, as he ducked his head.

"Now if you two boys don't mind, I would really like to have some breakfast at some point this morning. And seeing as how you two boneheads are the reason I'm awake at this ungodly hour, I suggest you go make me some."

I snickered at the hunter's request.

"I'm pretty sure he's serious Dean." Sam said, nudging my elbow.

Bobby stared at both of us expectantly.

"Alright Sam. Let's go make the old man some food before he gets grouchy."

Bobby glared.

"Oh, too late." I mocked as I grabbed Sam's elbow and pulled him out of the chair, following him from the room.

Before we crossed into the kitchen, Sam stopped, I nearly ran into him as he turned.

"Bobby?" He called out.

The hunter looked up from the novel his eyes had been on.

"You're nothing like your father." My brother declared his voice dripping in sincerity.

Bobby's face twitched, an array of emotions travelling across it before he stilled his expression and nodded.

Sam smiled, not requiring any more of a response before he headed into the kitchen.

I glanced between the two of them, both focused on other things now.

I was relieved that Bobby's talk had done Sam some good. At the least it had assured the kid that his surrogate uncle didn't see him any differently. Hopefully it also took some of my little brother's shame, helped him realize that being afraid then and even now was nothing to be humiliated about.

But maybe Sam wasn't the only one who benefited.

Maybe Bobby did as well.

He had opened up more with us in the last few minutes than he had in our entire lives. It seemed to have done him some good. It appeared as though he took Sam's words to heart, that maybe the hurting young man had been able to bring some healing to the hurting hunter.

Maybe they had been able to bring each other some peace.

"Dean? You coming man? I'm not doing all the work."

"Ha! Like you could. I've seen you burn toast."

"That was **one** time Dean and I was six!"

I chuckled at Sam's defensive holler as I went to be sure my brother didn't burn the house down with his lack of cooking skill.

"How about that time you tried to make spaghetti and ended up exploding the sauce all over the motel room." I recalled, standing next to my brother who was staring into the fridge.

"What was I, like eleven?" He asked, digging his bony elbow into my side.

"Nine." I amended without thought.

Sam sent me a smile that I didn't totally understand.

But, damn if it wasn't the greatest feeling to see him grinning.

As we made breakfast, joking and teasing each other the entire time, I knew that Sam was going to be okay.

No matter what happened next, he was going to be okay.

He was going to pull through.

We were both going to pull through.

With some help from Bobby, a lack of sleep, and probably a few more chick-flick moments, we would make it through.

Because we were Winchesters.

And Winchester always find away to make it through.

Always.


	9. Chapter 9

Breakfast was blessedly uneventful.

Five in the morning was a little early for a meal, but no one seemed to mind, eating heartily regardless of the absurd hour.

Sam was glad that he was permitted to eat more than eggs, his throat now doing far better than it had been. His back seemed to have improved as well.

I was beyond relived that the majority of the injuries the shifter had inflicted on my little brother seemed to be fading away.

His skin, however, was still a reddish-tinge and I could tell by the way he moved that Sam was feeling a certain level of discomfort. His raw flesh likely not reacting nicely to the fabric rubbing against it.

Once we finished eating I collected the dirtied dishes and placed them next to the sink.

"I'll wash them." Sam volunteered, approaching the counter.

"I can do it." I offered.

"Nah man, you've done them plenty. I haven't done any since we got here."

I shrugged, if the kid wanted to do the dishes so bad, who was I to stop him?

"You know Bobby, they make these things called dishwashers, maybe you've heard of them?"

The older hunter raised his eyebrows as he looked up from his coffee.

"I don't need no dishwasher. I've got Winchesters." He quipped with a smirk, returning his attention to the newspaper that had somehow appeared in his hands.

I shook my head with a chuckle and turned back towards Sam, just in time to watch him wince as he rolled his sleeves up.

"Dude, maybe I should do these." I said, gesturing toward the pile of dishes.

"No, it's okay. I've got it."

Before I could protest further the kid was sliding his hands into the water, only to hiss and pull them back out at twice the speed.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Just let me do them." I stated, pressing lightly on Sam's chest, forcing the him back a few steps.

"No, dude come on, it's fine. Bobby do you have any gloves or-

"Sam, you hands are freakin fried. Gloves aren't going to make anything better. I'm doing the dishes."

"But-

"Trust me buddy, the second you are up for it, you can wash every damn dish in this kitchen for all I care, but not now." I stated defiantly.

Sam glanced over at Bobby, possibly looking for back up, but the hunter was keeping out of our conversation, not even acknowledging us as he proceeded to read the paper.

"Fine. Whatever. Have fun." Sam grumbled, dropping back into the kitchen chair and crossing his arms.

I rolled my eyes at the petulant behaviour, but was thankful enough that Sam hadn't put up more of a fight; he could be a real force of nature when he put his foot down.

I started in on the dishes, only glancing back when I heard Bobby's voice.

"Well Sam, if you're done sulking, I got two new crates of books in the study that need to be sorted.

I watched my geeky little brother perk up at the information.

What a predictable little dork.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah. So unless you want to sit there pouting for the rest of the morning, feel free to go organize my new research resources for me."

"You've been spending too much time with my brother." Sam grumbled, but he quickly rose to his feet, the nerd inside of him still eager to check out the new books.

The younger man was almost out of the room when he spun back around on his heels.

"Bobby, we've been here for nearly two weeks, why are you just mentioning this now?"

It was a valid question and I paused my task to get a look at the older hunter's response.

"Are you serious kid?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, glancing my way before nodding slowly.

"Boy, when you got here you could barely make it up the front steps, you really think that big brother of yours was going to let me put you to work while you were that messed up?"

I nodded in agreement to the reply and continued with my task, but I could still hear Sam's put-upon sigh.

"Dean's not the boss of me." He grumbled, exiting the kitchen.

Bobby and I chuckled at the response.

"You want some help with that?" The older hunter asked, standing from his chair.

"Nah, I'm good. There's not that many."

"Well you boys made it, I can clean it."

"Bobby it's fine. It's the least I can do seeing as how we woke you up at three this morning."

The man grumbled his agreement as he slid on his jacket and headed out the front door.

I hummed some Led Zeppelin to myself as I completed the dishes.

I was finished and drying my hands when Bobby returned to the house.

"Check it out Bobby, everything is clean as a-

My comment was cut short as I saw the object held in the older hunter's hands.

"What the hell?" I nearly shouted .

"Ease up kid." Bobby placated, his hands up in surrender, one of them maintaining its hold on the dinosaur book.

"What the hell are you doing bringing that thing back in here?" I ground out, trying to keep my voice low to remain off Sam's radar.

"Dean, I need it-

"Don't you know what seeing that thing did to Sam?" I snapped.

"You're damn right I know." Bobby returned, his patience diminished.

I was surprised by the emotion in the older man's voice and fell silent.

"The kid was _terrified_ , more terrified than I have seen him in a long time. And I know the things that boy has been through, the things he has hunted. So don't think for one second that the sheer horror I saw on that kid's face isn't ingrained into my mind. I know _exactly_ what seeing this book did to Sam."

There was a moment of silence between me and the hunter. I was taken aback by the pain and anger in his voice. I have never seen so clearly just how much Bobby was hurting for my little brother.

"Then..why?" I questioned, gesturing to the children's novel.

Bobby relaxed a little, now off the defensive, his voice losing it's emotional strain.

"It's evidence. It's the only lead we got. I'm going to need it if we are going to figure out exactly what is going on here."

He was right of course, but the explanation did nothing to put me at ease.

"But, Sam-

"I don't intend to let the kid lay eyes on this damn book ever again. But if he does, he'll understand why I need it."

He would. Sam was a researcher. He completely understood the importance of gathering all possible evidence. But just because he would understand, didn't mean that _I_ found it acceptable.

"He can't keep getting that memory chucked in his face, Bobby. He's messed up enough as it is. He can't sleep, he can't stop showering, and he can't stop fucking remembering." I stated, struggling to hide the crack in my voice.

"I get that Dean, but I can't help him with any of that. All I can do for Sam is get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on here. You are the only one who is permitted to comfort that boy."

My face scrunched up at that comment.

"What do you mean _permitted_?"

"Oh come on son, we both know you ain't that dense."

I raised my eyebrows at the pending insult, but awaited the explanation I knew would follow.

Bobby released an exasperated sight before plopping into the kitchen chair, I dropped into the one across the table from him.

"For all you mock your little brother for being a girl, or a pansy, or whatever the word of the week is; you and I both know that Sam is no such thing."

I nodded in agreement. The kid had always been far more sensitive than I, but he was also as strong and brave as they came, after all, he was a Winchester.

"He is stubborn and independent, and while he may be the first to offer comfort, the kid does not accept it half as easily."

I squinted at the observation, not finding it to be very in-line with what I knew about my little brother.

"Oh come on Dean. Have you ever seen Sam ask for or accept comfort form anyone but you?"

I thought back, assuming there must have been a time in our lives when even a younger version of Sam had looked for someone other than myself to console him.

I came up empty.

Not able to think of even one occasion when another human being had comforted my little brother.

"Maybe not, but that's not because he wouldn't allow someone else to, he just didn't need anyone else to, because I was there." I answered simply.

A small smile played on Bobby's lips as he shook his head in an almost fond fashion.

"The truth is, that Sam only allowed you to see that side of him. He was never vulnerable around anybody else, never let anyone but you comfort him. Even when you weren't around, it was you the kid would ask for when he was hurting."

I still wasn't buying it. Sure Sam had usually cried for me as a child, but that was because I was always there. I didn't imagine it was because the kid never allowed anyone else to take on the roll of comforter.

Bobby sighed again, leaning back in his chair as his expression turned thoughtful.

"You remember that time you were kids? Sam couldn't have been a day over fourteen. John left him here with me while you two went across the state on a hunt."

I frowned, not recalling too many occasions where Sam had stayed at Bobby's without me. Growing up we had always been together, I had made sure of it.

"There was something kidnapping teens several hours away. You had to go with your Dad, because I had wrecked my ankle on a hunt the week before. Sam had to stay with me because his shoulder was messed up."

The prompts had the memory flashing back into my head. I had always maintained a mental catalogue of all my little brother's injuries.

"He was thirteen. His shoulder broke when some pissed off spirit had chucked the kid across a fucking graveyard." I bit out, the event fresh in my mind. I was practically able to see Sammy's thin frame soaring through the air and into a headstone as though he were nothing more than a rag doll.

Bobby nodded in concurrence.

"You were on crutches with a snapped ankle."

"Yup."

"Dad and I were only gone a few days before you called."

Bobby waited patiently, allowing me to recall all the details of that particular memory.

_I walked back to the motel, returning from the library up the street._

_I was missing my little brother, and not just because I liked having him around to do all the research, but because I was approaching the room and I knew that when I opened the door there would be no shaggy haired, dimply-faced kid to meet me on the other side._

_Sure, Sam was fourteen and technically not a kid any more, but he was still good to have around (even with all that teenage angst he had going on) and hell, he was definitely small enough to be considered a kid._

_The little midget._

_I shook my head at myself. I was seventeen years old, I shouldn't be feeling homesick for my little brother._

_But what could I say? There was just something about having Sammy around that made everything better._

_The kid was fun to annoy, he laughed at my jokes, he was smart as a whip, he was my partner in crime, and I just fucking missed him okay?_

_Maybe it had only been like three days since I last saw him, but hunts were no fun without Sam._

_Our Dad became much more intense and serious without his youngest son around to remind him that there was more to life than catching monsters._

_Then there was the fact that I was worried about the kid. His shoulder broke just a week ago, and he had never excelled at taking care of himself. Sam was far too stubborn for his own good, and even though I had given Bobby the 'how you take care of my little brother run-down' before we left, I was worried that Sam wouldn't inform the older hunter if he was in pain._

_It's not that I doubted Bobby's capabilities...but he wasn't me._

_And that's just all there was to it._

_I sighed as I marched into our motel room, mentally preparing for the onslaught of research questions I was sure to receive._

_Instead I walked in, only to have my father to pull out the Impala keys and dangle them in front of my face._

_"You have to go." He declared, handing me my duffel, which he must have packed up._

_"What are you talking about?" I inquired in complete confusion as I struggled to read my father's impassable expression._

_"I was just about to call you when I heard the door." He said, placing a stack of cash in my hand._

_"You're going to have to fill her up on your way back, she was running on empty this morning." He declared, nodding towards the car._

_I blinked, wondering if perhaps I had entered the twilight zone._

_"Back where?" I asked a little louder, my confusion turning to irritation at my complete lack of knowledge._

_"To Bobby's. Sam needs you."_

_And just like that, nothing else mattered. Not my father's strange behaviour, not the hunt, nothing but Sam._

_I grabbed the keys that Dad had been holding out for me._

_"What's wrong? What happened? Is it his shoulder? I told him to tell Bobby if it became to painful? Why doesn't that kid ever listen? Did he-_

_"Dean!" John barked over my ramblings._

_"Sam is fine, physically...I think."_

_"You think?" I gawked._

_"He's upset. Bobby said he's barricaded himself in one of the old junkers. He's been in there since this morning."_

_My dad's stoic facial features cracked into concern as he spoke about his youngest son, but he quickly schooled his expression before continuing._

_"You can call Bobby on your way back, but the man doesn't seem to really know what's going on." He mumbled, the last half the sentence sounding as though he were saying it more to himself than me._

_"But why would Sam hide out in a car? Why wouldn't he just tell Bobby what's wrong?"_

_"I don't know, Dean. All I know is that there is something going on with your little brother, and it's worrying Bobby enough that he called and asked you to return. So you best get moving."_

_I knew an order when I heard one, and was more than eager to follow it._

_I stalled on my way out of the room._

_"Wait, Dad who is going to be back up? And how you getting home?" I questioned, belatedly realizing that I was requiring the use of the one vehicle we drove across the state._

_"I called Jim, he's on his way. I'll be fine, he'll give me a ride back to Bobby's when we are finished. Call me when you can and let me know what's going on."_

_I didn't miss the brief flicker of regret that fractured my father's mask of indifference._

_"Dad? You sure you don't want to come?" I asked._

_A mirage of emotions chased there way across John's expression, before a small sad-looking smile pulled at his lips._

_"No Dean. I've got to finish the hunt before any more teens go missing. You go be with Sam. He'll be okay." He insisted softly, yet confidently._

_I nodded at my father's decision and moved quickly to the Impala, eager to call Bobby and get back to my little brother._

_Dad wasn't lying when he said that Bobby didn't really know anything._

_The man stuttered through confused responses. Essentially all he knew for sure was that he had been walking back to the house from the shop and spotted one of his customers speaking to Sam, who had been sitting reading on the porch. He immediately got the man's attention and ushered him back to the shop where his vehicle was waiting. After the man paid and left, Bobby returned to the house to find Sam nowhere in sight. He discovered him a short while later wedged into the far side of a junker car that was pushed up against several others._

_I had asked who the man was that had spoken with Sam. Bobby explained that it was the same man who had come around a few days back, the one with the brown pick up truck that had a rattling engine. I immediately remembered seeing him as Sam and I had been on the front porch playing checkers when he arrived. I did recall him being peculiarly friendly, but he had never attempted to approach my little brother...than again I had been there at the time to protect the kid._

_I never should have left him and I cursed myself for doing so._

_Bobby insisted he had tried to talk Sam out of the car, had tried to figure out what had him so frightened, but the young teen's only response was to ask for me._

_After that I had told Bobby I was on my way, even though we both knew it was a five our drive from Rapid City to Sioux Falls._

_Three and a half hours later, I ripped my way into Bobby's drive. It was already dark out but I could still see the hunter standing on the front porch._

_"Where is he?" I questioned, before I was even out of the Impala._

_The older man made his way carefully down the porch steps, his crutches making the decent far from graceful._

_"Just relax for a moment Dean. Your brother is fine."_

_"No, he's not. You wouldn't have called me if he was fine." I snapped back, my temper flaring, as my body vibrated with the need to get to Sam._

_Bobby didn't deny the truth, instead waved for me to follow him as he walked into the maze of wrecked cars._

_I followed the hunter, willing him to pick up the pace as we made our way through the junk yard. Bobby stopped moving as suddenly as he had started, I barely managed to keep from running into his heels as I halted my own movements._

_"He's been holed up in there since eleven o'clock this morning."_

_I followed Bobby's gaze as he nodded ahead._

_Well, at least Sam had good taste. He had selected a classic car as his hiding place. It was far too rusted and damaged to determine the make or model, but I could still tell that it had once been a sleek, gorgeous vehicle._

_"I'm thinking it reminds him of the Impala." Bobby added._

_I bent down, nodding as I registered the interior of the vehicle and agreed that it did indeed resemble my baby. Sitting squished into the far side of the passenger seat, I could make out a shaggy brown head._

_"He hasn't had a bite to eat or nothing all day. Refuses to come out or tell me what's going on." Bobby explained with a disturbed expression, clearly unsettled by the youngest Winchester's behaviour._

_"Did you try to pull him out?" I questioned, needing to assess the situation in order to select the approach I would utilize._

_"A little. Right before I called your Dad I had tried to tug the kid out. But he wouldn't budge. He's a small wiry little thing, so I'm sure I could have forced him out, but I knew he would put up quite the fight and I didn't want him to do any more damage to his shoulder."_

_I was thankful for Bobby's decision. Sam was stubborn as hell, and if he decided he wasn't coming out of the car, I had no doubt he would further injure himself to stay there._

_"That broken shoulder is probably already sore as hell. The kid won't take his damn medication." The hunter elaborated, pulling the prescribed meds from is pocket and handing them to me._

_"See if you can get him to take them. I'll be inside." He said, maneuvering himself around to face the direction of the house and starting back that way._

_"Thanks Bobby." I stated sincerely, hearing his grumble of acknowledgement as I made my way to the beat up car that my little brother had apparently taken up residence in._

_I pulled open the door, wincing at the scream of the hinges._

_Sam flinched at the sound, but made no further movement, remaining wedged into the corner. The kid looked smaller than he normally was, curled into a tight ball. His knees were up by his face, his good arm holding the one in the sling closer to his body. The young teen's face was covered with his hair, as his face stared downcast into the foot-well of the car._

_I climbed into the rusted vehicle, surprised at the comfort of the bench seat as I slid behind the steering wheel. For all the damage done to the outside of the car, the inside wasn't all that bad, a little dirty maybe, but relatively unblemished._

_I glance to my right, frowning at the sight of my frightened little brother, and hating that I didn't know what had scared him, ergo, I didn't know what to kill to make it better._

_"Sammy?"_

_Just like that, the boy's head shot right up, his huge hazel eyes zeroing in on me in a second._

_I didn't know what reaction I had been expecting, but I was not ready for his eyes to fill, or for him to release a broken sob that just about split my heart in half._

_Before I could inquire further, Sam had uncurled himself, and was reaching out for me, the same way he did when he woke from nightmares as a child, or when he skinned his knees as a toddler._

_I responded the way I always had to those reaching arms; I pulled the kid into me, wrapping myself around him, and holding him against my chest._

_I was careful not to squeeze Sam's shoulder too hard, but couldn't help but tighten my grip as the thin frame against me began to shake, while my little brother sobbed into my chest._

_I didn't know where the pain, fear, or the tears were coming from, all I knew was that I had to stop them._

_All of them._

_Now._

_"You're okay Sammy. I got you little brother. I'm here. I've got you." I promised, speaking directly into the his ear. He huddled impossibly closer to me, as though he could just hide inside of my embrace._

_"I'm here Sammy. I'm here." I assured him as I felt his thing fingers bunching up the fabric of my shirt._

_I ignored the tears I could feel trailing their way down my face, not willing to release my hurting little brother for the half-a-second I would need to swipe them away._

_My heart was breaking as I held Sammy together in my arms._

_"It's going to be okay buddy. I promise. I'm going to make it better. I'm going to make it better." I repeated softly resting my chin on his shaggy head, his hair tinkling me as I ever so slightly rocked us side to side, doing everything I could to comfort the shattered child in my hold._

_It took countless minutes of rocking and hushed promises before Sam's sobs died away and his shaking stopped. The small teen was sniffling as he released his white-knuckled grip on my shirt. I began to release Sam, pulling him away from my chest so I could see his face._

_I maintained a solid grasp on his good shoulder and slid my other hand behind his neck as I separated us enough for me to get a good look at the kid._

_Sam refused to meet my eyes, even as I brushed his bangs off his head and thumbed away the tears still trailing down his cheeks._

_I looked down at my chest at the feeling of nimble fingers climbing up it until landing on the amulet, where they stilled and wrapped around the ugly little charm._

_A fond smile spread across my face at the familiar action._

_"Sammy?" I called softly, sliding two fingers under his chin and gently forcing his face up to look at mine when he neglected to react._

_"What's going on buddy?"_

_Sam's eyes travelled off to the side, he looked everywhere but me as I continued to hold his head up._

_"C'mon kiddo." I encouraged softly, lightly squeezing the back of his neck._

_"It's stupid." Sam stated, pulling his chin from my grasp and looking down._

_"Hey." I said, grasping his chin again and directing his face back up to me._

_"I don't care."_

_It wasn't a flippant statement. It was as sincere as it could be. Sam also knew it as a guarantee that I would, in no way, mock him for anything that he was about to tell me._

_The teen let out a tired sigh before nodding._

_I released his chin and slid my hand back to rest behind his neck, patiently waiting for the explanation._

_"It was the man." Sam confessed quietly._

_"The one that came to pick up his truck?"_

_My little brother did not look surprised in the least that I had heard part of the story, and simply nodded to confirm it._

_"Yeah. He came up on the porch. I told him Bobby was back in the shop...but he just kept walking toward me." Sam said. He was talking so softly that he would have been impossible to hear had I not been less than two feet away from him._

_"And then what? What did he do to you Sammy?" I questioned, fighting to keep calm at the possibility that some sonovabitch had hurt my little brother._

_I breathed deeply, willing my body to relax, knowing that if Sam sensed the tension he might not be completely honest._

_"He didn't do anything." He stated._

_"Bullshit. You wouldn't be this upset if he hadn't done anything." I shot back._

_Sam bit his lip, looking away for a moment as he absently slid his thumb across the face of the charm hanging from my neck._

_"He just... he just said hi to me. And he said I was a good looking boy...and he just kept smiling at me, Dean. He looked at me the way that other man did." My little brother whispered, his tone haunted as frightened hazel eyes stared up at me._

_My body froze. I could tell from the kid's tone exactly which man he was referring to. The term 'man' was far too generous for the fucking piece of shit that had kidnapped, tied up, and touched my little brother._

_"Did he put his hands on you Sammy?" I questioned, directing a serious stare at the young teen, showing him that I needed the truth._

_Sam's hair swung from side to side as he shook his head._

_"No, Dean. He just talked to me a little. Asked why I was sitting around all alone. I told him it was none of his business. And he just smiled more and then before he could say anything else Bobby was yelling at him to follow him to the shop to get his truck."_

_I absorbed the new information, struggling not to display how disturbed and furious I was at the idea of some bastard preying on my little brother._

_I knew I had to remain level-headed and calm for Sammy's sake, I needed to assure him that he was okay and that I was going to keep him safe._

_"You swear to me that that asshole didn't touch you kiddo? He didn't grab you or threaten you in anyway?" I grilled the kid, needing to be positive._

_"Yes, Dean. I promise! He didn't do anything. I'm just...I'm being stupid. He just...his smile and the way he looked at me, it reminded me of...of...and I haven't thought of that in awhile...and it just...I just..." Sam swallowed and shook his head, as though he could dislodge that memory and rid of it forever._

_"I know buddy. I know." I said, swiping the bangs out of my little brother's eyes as I looked down at him in understanding._

_"But you don't need to be afraid of anyone okay? Not that monster who hurt you and not the creep from this morning. Because neither of them are ever coming near you again." I vowed with absolute conviction._

_Sam nodded, knowing a promise when he heard one._

_I pulled the young teen in for another hug, planting a kiss on the top of his head as I felt him melt against me._

_We remained that way only for a short moment before Sam pulled away._

_I could tell the kid was feeling safe again by the sudden appearance of embarrassment._

_His cheeks flushing red as he instantly released the grip he had on my amulet, apparently just then realizing that he had been clinging to it for some time._

_I rolled my eyes at my brother, his ability to go from a terrified clingy child one minute to a humiliated angsty teenager the next, was ridiculous._

_Sam shifted further back on the bench seat, probably for the purpose of adding to the space between us. The teenager's independence had been M.I.A, but it was making a vicious return._

_Knowing that my brother was now feeling more secure and would no longer permit being coddled, I made to exit the vehicle, only to turn right back around to face Sam as he released a pained groan._

_The kid was hunched over on the seat, his hand gripped hard to his injured shoulder while breathed deeply. His breaths were shaky as he struggled to control the pain._

_"Damnit Sammy." I cursed, pulling the pain meds from my pocket and dumping the proper dosage into my hand._

_"Here buddy, take these." I instructed, handing him the pills along with water that Bobby must have brought in for the kid earlier._

_Sam gratefully accepted the medication, almost dropping the water-bottle his hand was trembling so severely._

_"Shit man, you should have taken these hours ago. Your shoulder has got to be killing you." I observed sympathetically._

_Now that all the fear and distress had faded from Sam's facial features, it was so clear to see the pain he was in. His tight lips and his pinched expression telling me everything I needed to know._

_I cursed myself for not making him take the pain pills the moment I arrived, but I had been a tad distracted by my strong, independent teenage brother being reduced to sobs._

_"I'm fine. It's just sore."_

_"Bullshit."_

_Sam made no further argument, just smirking slightly as he continued to grip the injury._

_"I'm sorry Dean. For freaking out. I didn't mean to pull you away from the hunt." He explained miserably._

_"Oh c'mon dude. It's not big deal. You had a reason to be freaked out and I'm glad you called me." I informed him, maintaining eye-contact so the kid would know how serious I was._

_Once I was sure he had received my message, I continued._

_"Besides, the hunt was a total bore anyway."_

_"Really?" Sam questioned, perking up just a little._

_It hit me then, that maybe I wasn't the only one who just liked having my brother around._

_"Yeah really. I mean, we haven't even figured out what the thing is yet. And you wouldn't believe all the research Dad has me doing." I groaned._

_Sam chuckled, the soft sound putting my heart at ease._

_"You're just grumpy because I'm not there to do all the research for you." He pointed out._

_"Damn straight. I need your dorky brain around, little brother." I mentioned fondly, mussing his hair._

_Sam huffed an amused laugh as he swatted my hand away._

_"Now how's about we blow this popcicle stand and go see what Bobby has made us for dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm starving." I announced as I easily slid from the vehicle and stuck my hand out to help my little brother do the same._

_"You're always starving." Sam grunted as his fingers grabbed mine and he slowly climbed out of the car. He didn't release my hand until he had two feet steadily planted on the ground._

_"You ever wonder why I'm so much taller than you Sammy? Food, kiddo. It's all cause of food, maybe if you ate some every now and then you would grow an inch or two." I mocked playfully, as we began the trek back towards the house._

_"Dean, you're taller because you are four years older than me, you moron, not because you eat more." Sam explained with a put-upon sigh._

_"Fine, be a midget forever. Doesn't bother me one little bit. Bitch." I added, unable to keep the fondness I had for my little brother out of my tone._

_Sam shook his head in exasperation, but his dimples were present on his face as he smiled up at me._

_"Whatever. Jerk."_

_I grinned down at the young teenager, placing my hand casually on his right shoulder, the corners of my mouth falling once I felt the cold temperature of his skin through the thin t-shirt._

_I watched a shiver travel through the kid's skinny frame, frowning at the knowledge that there was no way the cool night air was doing anything to ease the pain in his broken shoulder. It was probably just adding to it actually._

_I instinctively shrugged out of my jacket and cautiously wrapped it around Sam, careful not to place too much additional pressure onto his injury._

_"Thanks." He whispered, sliding his unrestricted arm through the sleeving and pulling the left side of the jacked further over his sling._

_It was nice to know that Sam was not yet too independent to accept help._

_Sometimes it worried me how capable and strong my little brother was becoming, how he strived to do things on his own. It made me think that maybe Sam didn't need me around any more._

_But it was moments like this that erased my concern. I realized that no matter how independent Sammy became, he would always need someone every now and again to look out for him._

_He would always need someone to make him laugh when he was being too serious._

_He would always need someone to reassure him when he was being too hard on himself, because the damn kid was always too hard on himself._

_He would always need someone to put his needs first._

_He would always need someone he could to depend on._

_He would always need someone to make things better for him._

_And that someone was me._

"By the time the two of you returned to the house, you already had the kid laughing and completely at ease. Once Sam had gone off to bed, I remember you asked if I knew the name and location of that guy with the truck. I had told you all I had was a first name and you were pissed that that probably wasn't enough to go tracking the guy down. When I asked what he had done to frighten Sam in such a way, all you said was that he gave the boy the creeps and you didn't want him coming around here."

"And you said you'd never let that bastard on your property ever again. Even though you had no bloody clue why he had upset Sam so much." I finished, staring at the older hunter gratefully.

Bobby had never required any further information, never asked for the details. He had just accepted what I said and promised to let me know if he ever saw that s.o.b. around.

"I'll admit I did wonder what you weren't telling me, but I never needed anything more than your word, Dean. If you didn't want that man near Sam, I was very well going to make sure that he never would be." The man across the table stated simply.

"That whole situation does make a hell of a lot more sense now though." He uttered to himself as an after-thought.

"Yeah. Something about that guy reminded Sam of the animal that hurt him three years before. That reminder, and the thought of being hurt by someone like that again, sent the kid into a panic."

Bobby nodded in agreement.

"That look Sam had on his face when this damn book showed up on my doorstep, was the same expression the kid was wearing when I found him in that junker car." He explained, his voice taking on a darker tone to it.

It was moments like that, witnessing to what extent Bobby hurt for my little brother, that reminded me just how much the hunter cared for us.

"There was nothing I could do to help him." The older man recalled.

"You sure he even knew that it was you? Sammy didn't even know it was me in the car with him until I spoke." I reasoned, remembering the surprise and relief on my kid's face all those years ago when he realized it was me seated next to him.

"He knew it was me. Right after I called you I went to try and get him to take his meds. He didn't move or even look my way but I remember him saying 'sorry Bobby' before saying your name again. He knew it was me, it just wasn't me that he needed. It was you." The hunter explained, staring steadily across the table.

I shrugged, not denying the truth.

"Look kid, I'm not trying to be your therapist here. All I'm saying is that when Sam needs comfort, it's you he looks for. Dean, you're the only one he completely lets his guard down around."

"Well Dad..." I faded off, not remembering the last time I saw my littler brother being comforted by our father, or the last time I saw him go to the older man for that kind of support.

"John Winchester has a lot of flaws, but he has always love you boys more than anything. I know that. He would also be the first to admit that at some point along the way, he became more of a drill sergeant and less of a father to you boys."

I made to jump to my dad's defense, but Bobby placed his hand up and continued.

"I'm not trying to start a fight, or harp on you father, I'm just calling it how I see it. John and Sam may not see eye-to-eye on most things, but we both know that past all the arguing, hard-headedness, and bullshit, they love each other."

I nodded, always having known that very same thing.

"And while I know that your dad always made both you boys feel safe, he was hardly dependable. Growing up your little brother needed someone to count on, someone he knew would always be there for him. And that wasn't John, and it sure as hell wasn't me. It was you, and it's still you."

I looked way, the emotion and reality of it all hitting me like a sucker punch to the gut. It was one thing to know all that, it was another thing to have it vocalized to you.

"Nobody, not me, not your father, and not Sam has any sort of question as to who raised your little brother. We all know that it was you. And you did a hell of a fine job to, I must say."

I couldn't stop a smile at the comment, but elected not to say anything, having no desire to add to the chick-flick session we had going on.

"The fact of the matter is, that _you_ are the only one Sam completely trusts. You have been that boy's anchor from the day he was born. You are the one he knows will **always** be there for him and you are the only one he lets himself be vulnerable around. His big brother is the only person Sam allows to comfort him."

I understood the point Bobby had been working to make, and of course the older hunter wasn't wrong. Sam had always fought to be strong around our father, for fear of letting him down if he displayed weakness. It was my name Sam had cried when he was hurt, it was me he had come to in the night after waking from a nightmare, it was me he had reached for when he needed a hug, me he had gone to for advice or support. It had, for as long as I could remember, always been me the kid came to when he needed comfort, and I supposed that even after so many years had past, that fact of our lives hadn't changed.

And damn if I wasn't really fucking okay with that.

Bobby stood from the kitchen chair.

"So I will help Sam the only way that I can." He said, nodding down to the book in his hands.

"and you will help him the way that only you can." The older man finished, nodding in the direction of the study.

Before I could so much as utter a sound, Bobby was heading out of the room, grumbling about Winchesters turning him into a freakin therapist.

I smirked at the hunter's mumbling and made my way towards my little brother.

I found him, and couldn't stop from smiling as I watched the dork cataloguing stacks of books, his eyes squinting in concentration as he studied each publication.

"You going to just keep staring, or come give me a hand?" Sam questioned, not even bothering to look up from what he was doing.

"And deprive you of getting your geek on? I wouldn't dare, little brother!" I replied with a shit-eating grin.

Sam looked up at me under his bangs, rolling his eyes with a huff, but was unable to hide the dimples that clearly displayed his amusement.

"Jerk."

My brother's fond tone of voice was equally as familiar as the insult that was said in it.

"Bitch" I shot back, the same fondness coming across loud and clear.

Sam smiled over at me, his hazel eyes soft and his body relaxed as he returned his attention to the task at hand.

I leaned casually against the wall, more than happy to stand there and watch the young man enjoying his time being a total nerd. He wasn't fearful, traumatized, or distressed. He wasn't remembering a darker time or reliving a nightmare. He was simply content, at least for that moment in time, and I would take what I could get.

Sometimes I forgot that Sam wasn't always the same way with everyone else that he was with me.

To me the kid was practically an open book, but to others he was far more guarded, something I shouldn't have forgotten, seeing as how I was the same way.

We had always been close.

We had always had each other.

We had always been there for one another.

We had depended on each other and trusted one another.

No matter how many things had changed over the years, those facts had remained the same.

My little brother was strong. He was independent and a force to be reckoned with.

But when it became too much, when the memories refused to leave him alone and the fear reached unbearable levels, I would always be there.

I would be there to protect Sammy and comfort him.

Because the fact that he still trusted me to do that after all these years meant everything to me.

And because he was my kid.

And I would do anything for him.

**Anything.**


	10. Chapter 10

He was hurting Sam.

He had him, and he was hurting him.

And no matter what I did, he wouldn't stop.

No matter how many times I fired the weapon in my hand, that monster wouldn't let go of my kid.

I tried to move, tried to go force him away from my little brother, but I was stuck.

My feet must have been glued to the floor, because they refused to move even an inch.

Sam was being hurt just five feet in front of me, and I couldn't do a fucking thing.

I tried to scream, but it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

I fought to move forward, as I watched Sammy being victimized, as I watched his little face turn towards me, and saw giant tears sliding down his cheeks.

I couldn't move an inch, not even when those puppy dog eyes pleaded for me to end the pain.

I could hear Sam past the tape secured across his mouth; he was screaming for me, begging for me to save him.

And I couldn't.

I felt tears tracking down my own face as desperation overwhelmed me.

I tried to tell Sammy that everything would be okay, that I would save him, but no words would come out.

The monster was laughing, sneering over me as he touched Sam. As he made my kid scream and tremble.

Blood poured down the boy's arms from his wrists as he struggled to free himself, to run from the man who was holding him down.

I fought to take action, kept firing the gun that didn't seem to do any damage, kept trying desperately to get my feet moving, continually working to say something _anything_ , but nothing worked.

I was forced to simply watch as my little brother was tormented and violated.

I felt myself breaking apart, sobs tearing from my throat as I crumbled to pieces.

I heard Sam calling for me again, but this time it was as though he were talking over his own voice.

A deeper, softer tone floated through the higher panicked one.

I looked around, not understanding where that voice was coming from.

Then I felt a hand grip my shoulder and shake gently.

And suddenly the scene of Sam tied down on the bed, dissolved into nothing.

Instead my eyes were met with a much older version of my little brother. The puppy dog eyes were still there, but they weren't pleading, simply bright with concern. The long hair was still there, but was no longer soaked with sweat. There was no blood running down his thin wrists, and no duct-tape spread across his lips.

Reality slammed into me.

A nightmare.

I had been having a nightmare.

They were much more foreign to me than Sam, and it always took me longer to gain my bearings, I didn't have the practice that the younger man had acquired over the years.

I glanced around.

We were still in the study, where I had been annoying my little brother as he categorized Bobby's new shipment of books.

Speaking of Sam, he was the tall figure currently looming over me.

I was leaning back in one of the chairs across from the desk, my feet propped up on the other chair. It wasn't an overly comfortable position, but I'd had less comfortable sleeping arrangements over the years.

"Dean?"

I stopped my assessment of the current situation, and looked up at the younger man who was still bent down looking at me.

"What?" I questioned, feeling self-conscious under the intensity of Sam's gaze.

"You okay?" He asked, the hand he had around my shoulder squeezing gently, as his other hand patted my chest, where I just now noticed it was resting.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fine. You're the one who woke me up." I pointed out.

"But, are you okay?" Sam repeated.

This was getting weird.

"I'm fine. My neck is a little sore, but I'm fine." I stated, rolling my head from side-to-side to work out the crick.

Sam took his hand off my shoulder, but left the one on my chest as he bit his lip, simply staring at me for a moment.

"You sure?" He inquired again.

"Yes, Sam, I'm fine. What the hell is with the inquisition?"

Sam backed away, still chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes now turned to the ground.

"You were uh...you were upset." He said, glancing quickly up at me and then back to the ground before returning to his seat behind the desk.

I frowned as I sat up.

It wasn't until I went to knuckle the sleep from my eyes that I realized my face was wet.

I had been crying.

Not just in my dream, but while I was sleeping as well.

No wonder Sam seemed so freaked out.

"It's been a long time since you've done that." My brother rasped softly, switching his gaze between me and the open book in front of him.

I wasn't sure if Sam was talking about my nightmare, or my oh-so-manly tears.

"The first time I noticed, we were really little. I remember waking up and seeing you crying. Took me awhile to realize you weren't awake. I woke you up, to make sure you were okay, and you had no idea what I was talking about. The next time I tried not waking you, but I couldn't stand you being upset like that. We were just kids, but I still knew that you never cried. So I'd find ways to wake you up by accident. Kicking you 'by accident', moving around a lot in the bed, getting up to go to the bathroom. Every time you would sort of startle awake, it would take you a second to reorient yourself; then you would ask if I was okay before falling back asleep." Sam explained in a small reflective voice.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked, wondering how - even as a child - Sam had managed to keep such a secret. The kid had always told me everything, especially when he was just a squirt.

Sam shrugged.

"The couple times I would ask if you had a bad dream or anything, you would say no. I just figured you didn't remember. I assumed since you were crying it was probably about mom anyways, so I didn't want to make you upset by talking about it."

Sam had always been way too damn considerate, even as a youngster. Now that I thought back, I could recall a few nightmares, all of which I had been brought out of by Sam. He'd wake me up by squirming around or making some level of noise. I also recall how the kid would cuddle right up to me after. Sometimes I felt like maybe he knew, the way he would worm right into my side; it seemed like he was comforting me, bringing me into the present with him, and keeping me out of the horrors of my mind.

"You should have told me." I said, feeling bad for all the occasions I had inadvertently frightened him.

"It's not like it happened a lot. I don't think it's even happened since we stopped sharing a bed. Until now anyways." He added softly.

I sighed, pulling my feet off the chair opposite me and sitting up, resting my elbows on my knees.

"I'm sorry I scared you." I confessed, speaking both of now, and all those years ago.

"It's not a big deal, Dean. Besides, how many times have you dealt with me screaming awake and launching myself out of bed? At least your nightmares are quiet." Sam declared, quirking a small smile.

"Well yours are worse than mine, so you've got every right to holler like you do."

"Really?" Sam questioned in disbelief, his raised eyebrows telling me that he didn't buy it.

"Really." I insisted.

The younger man shook his head in disagreement, but made no further argument.

"What was it about? Your nightmare?"

I ran my hands through my hair, my lips thinned into a line as I considered what to say.

The biggest part of me wanted to tell Sam it was nothing, and not to worry about it.

But I knew my little brother, and I knew the second those words were out of my mouth the kid would accuse me of being a complete hypocrite, and he would be right.

When Sam had his bad dreams I harassed him until he told me what they were about. Now that the tables were turned, it'd be wrong of me to shut the kid out, not when I kept insisting that he open up to me.

The part of me that knew it would be best to be honest with Sam, was also worried about upsetting him, making things even worse for him.

I sighed at the battle playing out in my mind.

Sam's next words chose the winning side.

"Please, Dean." He nearly whispered, clearly able to detect my uncertainty.

As if the please wasn't enough, the kid had to throw in the puppy dog eyes, just for good measure.

"Same thing you've been dreaming pretty much. Except I'm watching that bastard hurt you, and I can't so much as move one fucking inch." I ground out, glaring down at my hands, the helpless desperation returning in waves as I recalled the nightmare.

"But you did, Dean."

I looked up at Sam, meeting his imploring gaze.

"You did. You moved and you saved me." He stated, his voice oozing grateful admiration.

"Damn right I did." I declared, forcing my mind to believe it.

A small smile spread across Sam's face, making him look more at ease as he leaned back into the chair.

"You hungry?" I asked, noticing the time, and eager to escape the chick-flick territory we seemed to have entered.

"Sure."

I knew that was Sam's way of saying 'no, but I'm willing to eat' and normally I would call him on it, but at this point in time I would take what I could get.

"Good, I'll go see what Bobby's got left in his kitchen." I announced, hearing my back crack in complaint as I stood-up and straightened out.

"Oh yeah, he went out a little over an hour ago, while you were snoring."

"Where'd he go?"

"Had on his FBI duds and said something about going to the post office, to see where the...uh...the book came from." Sam stuttered.

I frowned, wishing that the older hunter hadn't mentioned that much information, but I of all people knew how impossible it could be to keep anything from Sam.

"Alright, cool. We'll save him some lunch. Come on, come help me find something edible."

"You're the cook, what do you need my help for?"

"You're going to eat it, you can help me make it. I ain't your maid." I responded, watching as Sam reluctantly dragged his gangly ass up out of the chair.

"Besides, if you stare at those books any longer you are going to give yourself a migraine." I added.

My little brother rolled his eyes, but didn't bother denying the truth.

We walked to the kitchen, I found myself quite content with the casual way Sam was moving, no longer stiff with pain, or shuffling awkwardly due to his raw skin. The kid was doing well, considering.

We found enough random ingredients to throw together a stew.

The simple task of making dinner was incredibly enjoyable. Sometimes, amidst the insanity that was our lives, I forgot how great it was just hanging out with my little brother; nothing earth-shattering happening, just the two of us spending time together performing mundane life tasks.

I was in the middle of mocking Sam for the dainty way he was slurping his stew, when Bobby entered the house.

"Hey, there's some stew on the stove, it's not great because Sam doesn't know a damn thing about -"

I faded off at the sight of the older man. Bobby's skin was chalk-white behind his grey scruff. His eyes were wide and glossy.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Sam's head shot up at the question, and he turned to look over at the other hunter.

"Bobby?" He prompted, upon noticing our surrogate uncle's appearance.

Bobby glanced back and forth between Sam and I, his expression unchanging as his hands clenched around the paper he was holding.

"I uh...I went to the post office." He announced, his voice sounding rough as he cleared his throat.

"Yeah, what'd you find out?" I inquired, not liking the feeling I could feel growing in my gut.

"The package was dropped off out front of the office just a couple days back. No return address, but they delivered anyways, because it had my address written on the front and all the proper postage."

I nodded along, not finding anything particularly alarming about any of the information being said.

"I uh, I asked to see the security footage. And we snapped a picture of the person who left the package at the office."

Sam and I sat in silence, waiting for Bobby to continue, but the older man just proceeded to stare at us.

"Who was it?" Sam questioned softly.

I frowned at Bobby, realizing that his anxiety was transferring to Sam, and not liking it one bit. We had been having a good day so far.

"Spit it out Bobby." I demanded gruffly, not appreciating all the build-up.

"It's the man." The older hunter rasped.

I scowled.

"Wow, yeah, thanks for clearing that up."

Sam rolled his eyes at my sarcasm before returning his attention to the hunter who had yet to lose his ghostly expression.

"What man?" My little brother inquired.

I wondered if Bobby knew that Sam was using his 'witness voice' on him, that tone he brought out whenever he needed to emotionally massage the truth out of a particularly traumatized source.

I doubted that he noticed, but he responded to it the same way that everybody else always did.

He opened right up.

"The man from all those years ago, the one that scared you when you were staying with me, after you busted your shoulder up." Bobby replied.

I now had a better understanding as to why a grown-ass man was as pale as a sheet, and why his voice sounded so rough.

The person who was terrorizing Sammy, the one who was causing him to relive such a traumatic event, was someone that Bobby knew. Someone who had seen. Someone who had even been a client of his at one point. Someone who had approached Sammy while on Bobby's watch.

"What are you talking about?"

I glanced over to see Sam's perplexed expression.

The kid had not idea which incident Bobby was referring to, he hadn't been there earlier this morning when the hunter and I had spoken about that particular event

Bobby had also mentioned the wrong details to make Sam's memory click.

While I may have had a mental catalogue of my little brother's every injury, he did not. He probably didn't even know how many bones he had broken. His shoulder had been damaged on multiple occasions, and we had also stayed with Bobby a great many times.

The piece of information my little brother would remember, was the one that the little moron probably felt ashamed of.

"That time you stayed here and locked yourself away and a broken down car for a few hours." I stated, hating when I saw Sam's cheeks tinge red and watched as his eyes fell to the floor.

"Oh yeah." He muttered.

My little brother may not have had a list of his injuries in his mind, but he had one of his mistakes - or the things he perceived as mistakes.

I really wished that one day Sam could stop seeing every single display of fear as some stupid weakness that he should be ashamed of; and if I was honest with myself, a little part of me would never forgive our father for instilling that idiotic notion into my little brother.

"Sam, damn son, I'm so sorry."

Both my brother and I were pulled from out separate trains of thought at the unexpected apology.

"What for? You found out who it was, that's a good thing." Sam stated, his gaze swivelling over me to, searching for assistance.

I shrugged.

Hell if I knew what was up with the older hunter, Sam was the interpreter of the family, half the time he knew what people were feeling before they did.

"I let him near you. This bastard was somehow involved in what happened to you, and I let him waltz right onto my property and right up to you!" Bobby snapped, tossing the paper he had been holding onto the table.

Sam and I both looked down, seeing a slightly grainy image of a man holding the package that had ended up on Bobby's doorstep. I didn't recognize the stranger, I had only seen him the once, and it had been years ago and the picture quality wasn't all that stellar.

Sam knew who the man was though, his eyebrows went up in surprise, before he quickly diverted his gaze from the image.

"No wonder he scared you. And I gave him all the opportunity in the world to get to you. And what if he had done more than just..."

Bobby's eyes shot open impossibly wide as his words faded out and he stared over at Sam.

"He didn't, did he?" The hunter questioned, his voice sounding almost raw.

I glanced next to me at my brother, still playing catch-up, but apparently Sam was as well, because he was sporting that confused squinty look.

"Bobby, that's not the man who...who hurt me." Sam stated slowly, nodding down at the picture. I didn't fail to notice the shiver that crept through my little brother's thin frame as he vaguely referenced that traumatic event from years ago.

"I know that. Your daddy took care of that monster. But this is the guy who scared you when you were staying at my place, isn't it?" Bobby inquired, making Sam jump as he slammed his hand down onto the picture and shoved it in my brother's direction.

"Bobby!" I chastised.

I got that the man was rattled, perhaps with good reason, but I didn't like how his reaction was making Sammy so uneasy, even possibly frightening the kid.

Bobby ignored my warning, even though you would think by now a man of his age who had spent such extensive time with Winchesters would know better.

"Isn't it?" He shouted down at Sam.

"Hey!" I snapped, standing from my seat, and needing only to take a few quick strides to step in front of Sam, and force Bobby back.

"I need to know!" The older man hollered, at me this time.

"That's fine! You've got questions for Sam, you ask them, and he'll answer what he wants. But don't you _ever_ come at him like that again! You hear me? Not ever!"

I heard my tone, and recognized the animalistic venom that always seemed to appear when I was protecting my kid brother.

It didn't matter what the threat was, person or monster, friend or enemy, even family; I would protect Sam from anything and anyone.

My tone most have come across loud and clear to the older hunter, because he immediately stepped back, his face drained of what little colour it had left.

"I'm sorry." He rasped, his eyes glancing past me to Sam before dropping down to the ground.

I eased off a little, allowing my fists to unclench and my muscles to unwind, but remaining firmly planted in front of Sam.

"That's the man with the truck, the one who talked to me that day on the porch." My little brother announced softly from behind me.

Bobby's tense posture did not relax the least at the news, though I had thought it would now that he had acquired the information he had so desperately demanded.

"You sure?" He questioned, not removing his eyes from the table top as he glared down at the grainy image.

"Yes." Sam confirmed.

Bobby hung his head at the response, his hands white-knuckling the empty chair in front of him.

"Bobby? What's going on?" I asked, calmer now that the man was no longer harassing Sam.

He shook his head, his cap and face down, making it impossible for me to see his expression.

"Did he hurt you?" The older man inquired, his voice low and dangerous, but quiet at the same time.

I spun around at that, facing Sam, my eyes wide in concern.

Had that asshole put his hands on my brother? Had he hurt the kid? Had Sam never told me, and been suffering alone ever since?

The thought had my stomach churning.

Sam's eyes were wide as well, as he looked between Bobby and I.

"No. No, gawd, no. He didn't even touch me."

I recognized the genuine shock in my brother's voice, and knew he was being honest. I turned around to find that the older hunter did not feel the same.

I could read the disbelief in Bobby's eyes as easily as I could see the nose on his face.

"Sam, did he hurt you?" He repeated. He looked up and directly at my little brother. His gaze was dark, it held a darkness I hadn't seen in over a decade, since my father pulled up at the hotel on that evil night, in search of the man who had victimized his child.

I realized in that moment, that regardless of the great many differences between John Winchester and Bobby Singer, my surrogate uncle would have done the same thing my father did that night. Hell, if Bobby had been a round he probably would have marched right in the motel room door after John and helped him slaughter that human scumbag just like he had with countless supernatural creatures.

Because when it came down to it, a monster was a monster, no matter which species it belonged to.

And anything or anyone that would cause a child harm for their own pleasure, anyone who would hurt a young kid with such thoughtless glee, could be labelled as nothing but a monster.

It would seem that Sam could see the hunter's uncertainty as clearly as I, because he proceeded to argue his case.

"Seriously, Bobby, he didn't. He never laid a finger on me. C'mon man I would have told you if he had."

Bobby's eyebrows rose at that, obviously he didn't agree.

"Really? Because I can remember a time you were staying here and wouldn't even tell me your cold was getting worse. You ended up with freakin pneumonia because you refused to be honest with me." Bobby replied.

I remembered that as well, that was the first time I had taken an airplane in my rush to return to my little brother when Bobby called and told me he was in the hospital with pneumonia. I wasn't surprised when Sam looked down sheepishly for a moment, before speaking again.

"Okay, but I would have told Dean. There's no way I would be hurt that way again and not tell Dean about it."

Maybe it was the conviction in Sam's tone, or the certainty in his expression, or perhaps I just wanted it to be true, but either way, I believed the kid.

Apparently Bobby did as well, because a fraction of rage bled from his eyes and he visibly relaxed, his grip on the chair becoming less severe as he nodded.

"Alright." He relented with a grumble.

"So, this guy just dropped the package off at the post office. He live nearby?" I questioned, intending to divert the conversation back to the main point.

"No idea where he lives. Haven't seen him since that day he came to pick up his truck. After he scared your brother, I told you I wouldn't let him around here anymore. I meant that." The man assured gruffly.

I nodded, not needing any convincing that Bobby had meant what he said.

There was silence for a moment, each of us distracted with our own thoughts, until Bobby spoke up.

"I'm sorry, Sam." His voice oozed guilt, and my brother wasted not a moment in pouncing on it.

"There's _nothing_ for you to be sorry for, Bobby." Sam insisted.

The older hunter was shaking his head before my brother even finished speaking.

"This...this...this monster," Bobby slammed his hand down onto the printed image. "He is somehow involved in what happened to you, and I let him on to my property. I fixed his damn truck. I allowed him to walk right up to him and start fucking talking to you."

The disgust and anger flowing from our surrogate uncle surprised me. Bobby wasn't much for guilt. He often reminded me that shit happened in life and you just had to move past it. Yet, I could now feel guilt radiating off the older man. And I didn't know what the hell to do about it.

Luckily, Sammy did.

"Bobby." He called softly, standing and moving past me, his shoulder brushing with mine as he approached the distraught hunter.

Bobby made no reaction, keeping his gaze trained on the table top and running a hand over his face.

"He didn't hurt me -"

"But he scared you." Bobby interrupted, as he shook his hanging head.

Sam sighed, much like he did when he was irritated with me.

"Yeah, I was a kid, I had been through some pretty crappy shit. A lot of things scared me. It wasn't a big deal." Sam shrugged.

I had been quiet for a while, but wasn't about to let Sam shrug off what had happened, or take blame for being frightened by it.

"Sam, we don't know how, but this asshole was somehow a part of what happened to you, and he spoke to you years later. Of course it would have freaked you out. I can't even imagine what kind of predatory creep vibes the bastard was giving off." I explained.

Sam smirked at my explanation, before continuing.

"Alright, so maybe I had a good reason to be scared, but that doesn't mean that it was your fault, Bobby. You didn't know, I didn't know, Dean didn't know; and apparently when you found out that the man freaked me out, you made sure that he never came around again, which I never knew until now." Sam's grateful tone and puppy dog eyes would have already had me caving, but Bobby was refusing to meet my brother's gaze, therefor he was able to hold out a little longer.

Sam took a step even closer to the hunter, now they were barely two feet apart.

"You showed up before that man had the time to do anything but say a handful of words, and you got him away from me. Then you kept him away, even though you really had no logical reason at the time to do that. You kept me safe, Bobby."

Finally, the older man broke and looked up at Sam, his anger dissipating the second he caught site of the grateful, sincere, puppy-dog, expression that the kid was sporting.

I smirked as I watched our surrogate uncle grudgingly accept Sam's words. I knew full well that Sam Winchester was better at relieving people of their guilt and restoring their faith in themselves, then anyone I ever met.

Bobby glanced behind Sam to me. His gaze was searching, and I knew immediately what he was looking for. Anyone who knew Sam, knew that the kid forgave easily, but I was different.

I didn't forgive as easily as Sam did, I didn't have the never-ending compassion that my little brother seemed to always be full of, and I certainly was not quick to forgive and forget when it came to transgressions committed against Sammy.

Many of the grudges I harboured were not because I had been hurt, but because Sam had. Bobby knew that I wouldn't take it easy on anyone who put my kid in danger, or caused him any harm. He knew that if he were at all to blame for the situation, he would see the accusation in my eyes.

He didn't, because there was no blame to be had. I knew full-well that at the time, Bobby had done all he could to keep Sam safe.

I gave him a small smile and a nod, letting him know how I felt about the entire situation without actually having to add to the current chick-flick moment.

Bobby relaxed even more at my response, before taking off his cap and running his hand through the little hair he still had left atop his head.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." Sam declared earnestly.

Bobby cleared his throat, but his voice was still full of emotion when he spoke.

"Yeah, yeah. You said that already. You Winchesters are always repeating yourselves. It's not like the rest of us are deaf you know."

His words were flippant, but he sent us both a grateful look before grabbing the paper off the tabletop and marching out the front door.

Sam and I let him go, knowing that he got the point.

I stared at my little brother, marvelling - for what must have been the millionth time - at how amazingly selfless the kid could be.

Here he was, going through one traumatic event after the next; being forced to recall something he had spent over a decade trying to forget, and he was still putting others first.

He was still reaching out to Bobby, and doing whatever he could to comfort and reassure the older hunter, even though he had enough of his own emotional shit to deal with.

As I admired Sam, a memory popped into my head, one of the many I had that involved him being incredibly selfless even in his own fear, and knowing just how to reach me, how to comfort me, in my distress; much like he had just done to Bobby.

_Most of the towns we stayed in were insignificant._

_Some were smaller than others, some were busier than others, some were older than others, but none of them had been quite as nasty as the latest one._

_The entire place was disgusting._

_It wasn't literal trash, though there was plenty of litter to go around; no, it was just flat-out filth._

_Every building seemed to be one bad windstorm away from crumbling, graffiti masked practically every exterior surface (and not the cool skillful sort, but rather the scrawled curse-words and vulgar phrases), nearly every other house had windows boarded-up and looked to be under foreclosure, and even the vehicles on the road looked rusted-through and neglected._

_The people were also dirty, not physically - though some appeared as though they had never seen the inside of a shower before - but dirty in other ways. There were prostitutes, pimps, druggies, and dealers on just about every corner. Everyone seemed to sneer and grunt at each other, sirens could be heard at five minute intervals, and Sam and I had walked past at least three street-fights on the way to school._

_That's right, I was walking my fifteen year-old brother to and from school._

_I was actually standing right outside of his school, as I observed the many disgusting characteristics of the town._

_Dad had dropped as off here a couple weeks ago, he found a small apartment to rent for us after getting a good look at the sketchy-as-hell-motel. In the dark, the town hadn't look quite that bad, and John took off again before the sun came up._

_I was now so damn glad that I hadn't gone with the older man. He was driving over to the next state to help Jim with a hunt, but it was out in the middle of nowhere and Sam wouldn't have been able to attend school. Our father had asked if I wanted to join him, I told him that I was going to stay. I didn't love leaving Sam on his own, especially for a significant length of time - I didn't care that the kid was fifteen - he was still a kid. Not that he hadn't been left on his own a great number of times before, but I had only ever left Sam behind when I was under strict orders. I was grown now, and I could make my own decisions, so when the choice came between going with Dad or staying with Sam, it didn't matter what sort of hunt I was missing out on, or what shitty one-bedroom apartment I would be cooped up in, I always chose Sammy._

_As if being stuck in some crummy town for a few weeks wasn't bad enough, Dad had taken the Impala, because his truck got wrecked in our last hunt and was still sitting in Bobby's junkyard waiting to be repaired._

_I sighed in frustration, looking up at the cloudy sky for the sole purpose of no longer having to take in my disgusting surroundings. I shivered slightly, jamming my hands into my coat pockets to fight off the cold. Upon hearing the school bell ring, I stared expectantly at the front door, waiting for Sam to appear._

_The teenagers exiting the building weren't quite as cringe-worthy as most of the adults in town, but they were definitely jaded and most of them looked angry as they flooded into the parking lot. I kept a close eye out for my little brother, he was finally beginning to grow, but still the shortest of his grade, and quite smaller than me. Once, I caught sight of his gangly frame, or more the brown shaggy hair hanging down over his face, I began to make my way towards him. Sam looked up just long enough to catch my eye, sending me a quick smile as he began to hobble a little faster._

_That's right, hobble. Dad's truck wasn't the only thing that was damaged in our last hunt, Sam's right knee was as well. The kid sprained his knee and had to use a cane just to be able to get anywhere. That was another reason I had decided to stick around; leaving Sam alone was one thing, leaving him alone while injured, was completely unacceptable._

_"Hey Dean." Sam greeted, once we were close enough._

_"Hiya Sammy." I smiled, smoothly sliding the weighted knapsack from my brother's shoulders and slinging it over one my own._

_Sam made a grab for the bag, but was too late, and simply shook his head with an exasperated huff, deciding not to pick a fight he knew he would lose._

_"I can carry that, you know." He commented, as we made our trek back to the apartment._

_I slowed my pace, keeping in time with Sam and being sure not to step ahead of him at all, knowing that the moron would hurt himself just trying to keep up with me._

_"I know." I responded simply._

_"And I can walk back to the apartment on my own." He added._

_"I know."_

_"I may be moving a little slower than normal, but that doesn't mean I'm an invalid."_

_"I know."_

_"You really don't have to escort me every day."_

_"I know."_

_"I'd be fine on my own."_

_"I know."_

_"Anything you don't know?" Sam sighed in annoyance._

_"How to count in French, how to knit, how to square dance, how to tame a tiger, how to -_

_"Okay, Dean! I get it."_

_I smirked at my brother's irritation, and instinctively reached out to steady him as his cane hit uneven ground and sent him off-balance._

_Sam hissed as his knee took too much weight and I scowled at the eroding sidewalks in this stupid crummy town._

_"I'm alright." He stated, straightening up; but he didn't shake my grip from his arm, as he was still struggling with his footing._

_Once Sam was walking steady enough, I released my hold on him, but stayed close, at the ready to catch him if he were to stumble again._

_I was tense the entire walk home, not only nervous over my little brother's questionable balance, but the anxiety that came along with all the people we passed. There were a group of thugs on the corner, who made taunting jokes at Sam being "a little cripple." The younger boy had actually snagged my jacket as I had turned to confront the group of assholes._

_"They aren't worth it." He had whispered._

_When I had given no response, and simply proceeded to glare at the group of miscreants, Sam tugged on my jacket sleeve._

_"Come on, Dean. Let's just go, please."_

_The little brat knew I couldn't say no to the 'p' word, not when he utilized it anyways._

_I had reluctantly listened, and walked away from what could have been an extremely violent encounter._

_Next came the prostitute. She wasn't intimidating, and the proposition I knew she was going to throw our way might have even been amusing, if she hadn't had her eyes on Sam._

_My little brother didn't handle the sort of attention she was offering very well. After what happened when he was younger...well people expressing that sort of interest in him, scared the hell out of the kid. I could already see Sam cringing at the woman's sexually charged approach._

_I stepped a little ahead of my brother, intercepting the female just as she began to offer us her two for one discounted rate._

_"Sorry sweetheart, not interested." I declared, my wink coy, but voice serious, leaving no encouragement of persistence or bartering._

_She looked briefly put-off, before shrugging and muttering, "have it your way" before leaving in search of her next client. I glanced over at Sam in time to watch the full body shiver run through him._

_A small part of me was tempted to make a joke, say something witty, or perhaps tease the kid a little, but this was not a flippant matter about which I could ever make a mockery._

_Sam's reason for being disturbed by any sort of unwanted attention or sexual advance was far too real and far too traumatic for me ever to make light of._

_I hefted my brother's backpack higher onto my shoulder as we approached the apartment. It was nicer than the local motel, but that did not make it anything to be desired. The building was dirty and damp, it had a musky-smoky scent to it, and there were stains on the floors and the walls. The room we were renting was on the fourth - supposedly non-smoking- floor. It was a one bedroom, but there was a couch that served as a sufficient sleeping surface. There was precious little hot water to be had, but there was a kitchenette with a fridge and stove, all the necessary appliances, including a washer and dryer. The carpet was filthy, and the shower tiles were speckled with mold, but the walls were thick enough to keep out the noise, and the roof kept us dry. The one thing that really pissed me off about the room wasn't the lack of cleanliness or even the single bed, it was the damn heat that never seemed to want to cooperate. It didn't matter how height I set the thermostat, the room was permanently chilly._

_But Sam had never complained, not once. Not when he has to stop doing his homework to warm up his hands, not when he has to wear multiple layers to bed, or when he is unable to have a warm bath to soothe his knee like the doctor instructed him to._

_And while I was very pleased to not have my little brother bitching and whining, a part of me wished Sam would complain just a little; wished that he would expect more from his life, more from his father, more from me._

_Because the kid sure deserved a hell of a lot more._

_"You want spaghetti tonight?" I asked him, as we stood waiting for the rickety old elevator to arrive at the first floor._

_"With garlic bread?"_

_"Sure, I even picked up some stuff for a salad, if you want."_

_"What? Yes!"_

_I rolled my eyes at Sam's eager grin._

_"You need to stop getting so excited about salads, it's just weird." I informed him, silently enjoying the joy in his expression._

_His excitement made every penny spent on fresh produce entirely worth it. Our funds were dwindling. I found a part time job, but it didn't offer many hours and it was a struggle to make it until pay-day. Last week I had gone to one of the many seedy bars in town and won some money at poker, but it had resulted in a fight and I ended up with some bruises, a split lip, and a bloody nose (which was incredibly mild considering the number and size of the men who were coming at me). When I had come home that night/early that morning, I had done my best to be silent, but Sam had woken when I got back to the apartment. I think the little brat was probably waiting up for me, something he did far too often. The teen had panicked when he had seen my face, and as his shaky fingers inspected my split lip and bruised cheekbone, he had pleaded with me not to go hustling in this town._

_And I had eventually agreed, because I was a sucker for my kid, his soft requests, and his damn puppy dog eyes. So we would do our best to get by with the cash we had left from Dad and my meagre weekly pay, and in the event that it became absolutely necessary, I would go back on my promise to Sam. Because – while I couldn't even stand the idea of doing that – I would rather lie to my little brother, than let him go hungry._

_"You need a warmer coat."_

_I looked over at my brother's comment, as we stepped onto the elevator._

_"I'm fine." I declared, glancing down at my jacket._

_Sure, it wasn't in great condition, and the winter weather really wasn't doing me any favours, but we didn't have a lot of spare cash around. Besides, Sam was warm enough in the coat I bought him a few weeks back, and that was all I really cared about._

_"You're not. You're cold."_

_I frowned at my little brother's assessment. He was right, of course, but I had no idea how he knew, I had been making a conscious effort not to show how chilly I was feeling._

" _I'm fine, Sam." I declared seriously, but a small smile betrayed my fondness for the kid._

" _Next time we have enough money, we are getting_ _ **you**_ _a warmer coat." He huffed, staring hatefully down at his own winter jacket._

_I rolled my eyes, and gripped my brother's elbow as we stepped onto the empty elevator._

" _Whatever you say, Sammy." I sighed, not missing the annoyed look he shot me._

_One of the things Sam hated most in life, was being dismissed. That hadn't been my intention, but I could hardly promise that I'd waste our next chunk of cash on myself, and disagreeing with Sam would only result in a long drawn-out argument, which I did not have the energy for._

" _I think Lethal Weapon is on tonight."_

_Sam gave me a side-long look, one that clearly showed he knew I was trying to change the topic. I quirked a smile, acknowledging that I knew he was aware of my tactics, but still hoping he'd go with it._

" _The first or the second?" Sam questioned with a sigh, begrudgingly humoring me._

" _Does it matter? Either way we get to see Riggs and Murtaugh kick some serious ass."_

" _You are such a Riggs." Sam commented._

" _No way, man! I am not that insane." I defended, instinctively grabbing Sam's arm and escorting him off the elevator, slowing my long gate to match his hobbling one._

" _You would be if I wasn't your Murtaugh." The teen pointed out with a grin._

_I laughed at the comparison._

" _You may have a point there, Sammy."_

_God knew I would be a hell of a lot more messed up than Riggs if I didn't have my kid brother around to keep me sane._

_I was pulling the key from my pocket as we approached our apartment door, when I heard someone holler from down the hall._

" _Boys!"_

_I glanced over to see the landlord marching towards us._

_I stepped in front of Sam. The guy hadn't given us any issue before, but he was a bit of a dick and I didn't like the angry look on his face or the speed at which he was approaching._

_The older man didn't stop until he planted himself less than three feet away. He was probably in his mid-forties, he had a tall wiry frame and a patchy beard, his skin looked warn and his eyes sunken in. His nice clothing seemed to contradict his complete lack of hygiene and the stench of weed and alcohol that seemed to follow him everywhere._

" _You owe me money!" The man shouted, pointing one of his long bony fingers right into my face._

_I scowled at the accusation._

" _Rent isn't due until Friday, that's two days from now." I stated._

" _Rent is due when_ _ **I**_ _say it is." He spat in reply, his finger waving around as he took a step closer._

" _You said it was always due Fridays." Sam said, stepping out from behind me._

_I reached out, splaying a hand across the kid's chest, and lightly pushing him back a step._

_This moron obviously needed some extra cash, and – based on his blown pupils – he was probably on something. He was an unpredictable threat, and I wouldn't have Sam in the line of fire._

" _I don't give a shit what I said before. I need the rent now. Or I'll kick you two out on your asses."_

" _I haven't been paid yet this week, I won't have the rent until Friday, the day you said it's supposed to be paid, the day I have been paying it for the past few weeks." I declared, in a calm, but confident tone._

" _You don't got the money, that's fine. We can make some sort of deal." The older man said._

_I rolled my eyes._

" _I don't do drugs, or sell them." I informed him, knowing that was probably what he was after._

" _Boy, you've got something way more valuable than drugs." The landlord sneered._

_I frowned, not catching his drift, until I watched his beady little eyes dart behind me, to Sam._

_I instantly stiffened. My heart rate escalating._

" _Do you even know what kind of price that kid would fetch?"_

_The words burned through me like hot iron, but what really set me off, was when I heard Sam inhale sharply and caught his violent flinch in my peripherals._

" _You shut your filthy fucking mouth you sonuvabitch!" I shouted, advancing on the man and forcing him to step back into the wall._

_His eyes went wide for a moment, but his features quickly relaxed._

" _Don't worry, man. I'm not going to pimp the kid out. I just want one night with him."_

_I couldn't fucking believe my ears, my body was buzzing with rage as my fists clenched and a growl sounded from the back of my throat._

" _Fine, just give me an hour, and we'll call it even."_

_I couldn't believe this bastard thought my fury was coming from anger with his offer being unfair, as opposed to complete disgust and outrage._

" _You will never fucking touch him." I ground out, shoving the man roughly into the wall and holding him there, my hands fisted in the collar of his shirt._

_The man went tense under my hold, and he glared at me._

" _Fine, you want to play it that way? How about I call the cops on you and your little runaway boy-toy."_

" _What the hell are you talking about?" I barked, angered and confused by the man's threat, and feeling my protective streak surge impossibly higher as Sam's fingers took hold of the back of my jacket._

" _Oh come on, I'm not an idiot. There ain't no way that kid is legal yet and the two of you are shacking up together. You're in town on your own and you are the only one old enough to get a decent job. I'm guessing you're supporting him and he's paying you back in other ways. I'm just shocked you weren't smart enough to think of sharing the kid, you'd be rolling in cash if you did. Those fine features of his, his skinny body, even with the cane, he's still attractive as hell, besides some guys would totally dig the whole cripple-boy bit-_

" _Shut the hell up you fucker!" The animalistic cry tore from my throat as I slammed the man back hard into the wall. My entire body was consumed with rage. His words were swirling around in my head, tormenting my mind. The only reason I had let him speak so long was because I was in complete shock at the filth pouring from the bastard's mouth._

" _Dean."_

_I felt my shirt being tugged as I heard the timid call sound from behind me._

_The landlord's eyes shifted over my shoulder._

" _Don't you fucking look at him!" I seethed, my fist connecting with the man's face before I even consciously thought up the action._

_He cried out as his head snapped back and bounced off the wall. The blood began to poor from his nose and he released a pathetic mewl as he choked on some of the red fluid that was no doubt pouring down the back of his throat._

_It wasn't nearly enough._

_He should be dead for the things he had said._

_Or – at the very least – beaten until he was no longer capable of spouting out such vile thoughts._

_I punched him again as his words continued to sear through my brain and my vision turned red with uncontainable fury._

_I punched him again._

_And again._

_And again._

" _Dean. Dean, stop. It's okay. I'm okay."_

_The voice stole my attention, the way it always had since I first heard it, and I forced myself out of my rage-filled haze to focus on the young teen pulling on my arm._

" _Stop it, Dean. He's not worth it. Dean, please."_

_I glanced over, and instantly caved at the hazel gaze that was pleading with me to listen._

_No matter how much I wanted to beat this worthless asshole, I also couldn't bring myself to deny my little brother his simple request._

_Not to mention, the kid had a hell of a grip on my arm and would not doubt start using actual force to restrain me if I ignored him._

_I gave Sam a brief nod, one that meant I had heard him and would do as he asked. Sam must have gotten the message, because a flicker of relief crossed his face and he released his hold on my arm and took a step back._

_I looked back to the scumbag that I still held pinned up against the wall. His nose and lip were bleeding, I could tell just by looking at his cheekbone that it was broken, and his one eye was already swollen shut._

_It still wasn't enough._

_My blood pressure was still rising and my body was still pulsing with the need to rip the monster in front of me to pieces._

_But the thin fingers I could still feel wound in to the bottom of my coat reminded me that my priority was my little brother, and he wanted me to stop. The kid had begged me to stop, he'd looked relieved when he knew I would. Beating the shit out of some asshole wasn't going to make Sam feel any better._

_I grunted in frustration with my clashing instincts and focussed on the scared little shit trying to wriggle out of my grip._

_I pulled him away from the wall, just to slam him up against it again. I was slightly pleased with the cry he released and the fear that filtered into his expression as I leaned in, my face mere inches from his._

" _You ever speak to or about my little brother, or so much as_ _ **look**_ _at him, ever again, I will take this," I pulled out the handgun I kept tucked into the back of my jeans, and rested the nuzzle right up under the man's chin. "And I will blow your fucking brains out. And then I will take this," I switched the gun for my hunting knife and dragged it across the landlords exposed throat. "And slice you into a million fucking pieces, just for good measure."_

_The threat would have been cheesy, perhaps even humorous, if I hadn't meant every damn word of it. The way the landlord's eyes grew with each word I spoke, I knew that he could hear the lethal promise in my voice._

_I felt Sam shift behind me, and trained my eyes on the older man, testing to be sure that his gaze remained on me and didn't wander in my kid brother's direction._

_Satisfied that the snivelling piece of shit wasn't going to step out of line at the moment, I did my best to force myself to release him._

_I pulled him forward and slammed him back one more time, feeling a fraction of satisfaction as I released his shirt and watched him crumble helplessly to the ground._

_I glanced around the hallway, searching for someone who had witnessed the scene or who would care about the man sprawled unconscious on the floor._

" _Nobody saw, it's fine."_

_I nodded down at Sam, accepting his information as the truth, and silently picked up the backpack I had dropped at some point during the confrontation._

" _Come on." My voice sounded husky, but Sam heard it, and willingly complied with my prompting, turning back towards our apartment._

_I was tense with anger as I unlocked the door, but my hands were gentle as I helped Sam over the uneven threshold._

_I hated that I had nowhere safe to take him._

_I hated that I had even put him in the position to be some pervert's target, again._

_I hated that I didn't have the money or the means to get us away from the shitty apartment, and the sleazy landlord._

_I hated that Sam was going through this and I couldn't do a fucking thing to fix it._

_We didn't have a vehicle, and even if we could reach Dad, there was no way he would be back tonight. There was nowhere else in town to stay except the seedy motel down the street. The apartment was cold and drafty, but it was still warmer than the outdoors. Perverted landlord or not, the apartment was the safest, warmest place for Sam at the moment._

" _We can't leave, Dean."_

_I glanced back at Sam, eyebrows up, wondering if I was really_ _**that** _ _transparent._

" _You haven't closed the door yet, you're just staring into the hallway, and I know you aren't waiting for the unconscious landlord to appear." Sam said, explaining how he knew what was going on in my head._

" _We aren't going anywhere." I stated, closing and bolting the door._

_I frowned as the news seemed to make Sam tense._

" _No one is getting anywhere near you, Sammy." I assured the kid, stepping closer and ducking my head down to get into his lowered line of sight._

_Sam gaze locked onto mine, he chewed on his lip for a moment, before his expression visibly relaxed and he released a sigh._

" _I know, Dean." He stated softly._

_I smiled at that, content that he kid hadn't lost his confidence in my ability to protect him, even though he had reason to._

" _You think he'll call the cops?" He asked, as he slid out of his jacket and plopped down onto the kitchen chair, letting his cane clatter to the floor._

" _Nah, not a chance. He's probably got a boatload of shady shit going on, last thing he would want is the cops poking around here. Besides, I'm your legal guardian, you're enrolled in school; we aren't doing anything wrong."_

_I had no need to fake confidence on that matter, I knew the truth of what I was saying. That asshole wouldn't ever invite the police anywhere near him, and even if he did, I shared custody of my little brother with my father since I was eighteen, they couldn't take Sam away for no reason._

_Sam nodded, accepting my words as truth._

_The way the kid completely trusted me, without reservation, never ceased to amaze me._

_And it made it hurt all the more whenever I let him down, and betrayed that trust, even when it was done unintentionally._

" _Dean."_

_I shook my head, ridding of the violent thoughts of the past and focussed on the young face staring up at me._

" _Yeah, what?" I grunted, leaving my jacket on, still hoping to fight off the chill that seemed to have found its way right into my bones._

" _I'm alright." Sam informed, his eyes locked on mine, as though he were trying to convince me of something._

" _I know." I nodded, turning away and pulling food from the fridge._

_I heard Sam release an exasperated sound, but paid not mind to it as I put a pot on the stove to boil noodles in._

" _You got homework?" I asked._

" _Yeah, just Math."_

" _Well, get to it."_

" _Yes sir." Sam mock saluted with a smirk before pulling his book bag up from where I'd dropped it on the floor and tugging out his textbooks._

_Dinner went well. Sam ate a plateful of spaghetti before gleefully chowing down on salad, I ate some because he wanted me to, but the bowl of vegetables and lettuce was far from appetizing._

_Then we watched Lethal Weapon, laughing along with the witty banter between the two main characters, and marvelling at the action scenes._

_Everything was fine until the approach of bedtime. The second Sam went off to brush his teeth, I could sense his heightening level of anxiety._

_I made a show of checking the locks on the door, so he knew that they were securely in place, as well as setting my handgun next to the couch, where it was in arms reach. I even wedged a chair under the doorknob for good measure._

_I could feel Sam's eyes on me as I performed each task, but I could still see the tension dominating his thin frame when he padded off to bed._

_I changed into my sweats and peaked through the door to the one bedroom in the apartment, content to see me little brother huddled beneath the sheets. However, a frown pulled at my lips once I noticed that the kid was curled up in the furthest possible corner of the bed._

_My little brother was an octopus, years of sharing a bed with him had taught me that. He always stretched out, his legs usually knocking into mine during the night. He also almost always slept dead centre in the middle of the bed, even when we were both fighting to fit on one mattress. It was only when Sam was scared, that he would curl up in the furthest corner, as though he were trying to create even more distance between him and any impending threat._

_It broke my fucking heart to see my kid brother so frightened, even in his sleep._

_I clenched my jaw and gently pulled the bedroom door partially closed. It was an unspoken rule that on the rare occasion that Sam and I were sleeping in separate rooms, we would always leave doors open to minimize the separation between us and ensure that it would be easier to hear and get to one another. But I closed it half way in hopes of dulling the noise I was about to make._

_I went to the couch that was set up in front of the tv, and shoved it backwards, up in front of the bedroom doorway._

_I seriously doubted that the scumbag landlord would dare coming near our apartment, let alone try coming inside, but I still wanted to plant myself firmly between Sam and any threat._

_No one would be getting to that kid without coming through me first._

_No would be getting to Sammy tonight._

_Or any other night._

_The confidence that anything would have to literally climb over me to get to Sammy, was the only reason I was able to fall asleep._

_My dreams were full of anger and violence. I watched myself pounding into the sonuvabitch that threatened to touch my little brother, as well as the one who actually did put his filthy hands on my kid. I tore them apart, I felt them struggling for air as my hands choked the life out of them, I sliced them to pieces; in my dreams my rage took over my body in a way I have never allowed it to in reality, or more like in a way Sam had never let it take over my body._

_I was brought out of my savage dreams at the sound of my name being cried out._

_I nearly fell off the couch as I awakened, instantly gripping my weapon, ready to take out any threat. It took me just a brief moment to take in my surroundings and realize what had occurred._

_I placed the firearm back on the floor, and then leapt over the couch and into Sam's room, where the kid was sitting up in bed, panting loudly._

" _Hey Sammy, I'm here buddy, I'm here. You're alright." I recited as I stumbled to the bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes._

_Sam's eyes were wide as he glance wildly around the room. I gave him a moment to anchor himself before I reached out for him, knowing from experience that my brother had one mean right hook when he was frightened._

" _It's just me, Sam. You're okay. It's just us." I reassured him, my tone soft as I carefully sat on the edge of the bed._

_The young teen squished himself further into the corner as his gaze searched the room, which was dimly lit by the moonlight glowing through the window._

" _Eyes on me, little brother, eyes on me." I instructed, my voice firm but gentle._

_Sam skimmed the room once more before staring straight at me._

" _It's just you and me here, kiddo. You're safe. I promise."_

_The frantic glaze seemed to clear from Sam's eyes as he kept them trained on me and nodded along with my words._

" _Just-just a nightmare." He stuttered, working to convince himself._

" _Just a nightmare." I re-affirmed with a nod._

_I reached out, placing one hand on Sam's knee and another on his shoulder as he took a few deep breaths._

_He relaxed under my touch and leaned forward, resting his forehead against my shoulder as he continued the fight to re-gain control of his breathing._

_His thin fingers travelled up my chest before finding the amulet that always hung from my neck, and locking onto it._

_My heart swelled as I felt the light tug on the charm, knowing my little brother's hand was wrapped around it._

_Damn, I loved this kid._

" _That's it, buddy. Deep breaths. You're doing great." I encouraged, running a hand through the shaggy hair before leaving it to rest of the back of Sam's neck._

" _Sorry." Sam muttered, and I could feel him tense and prepare to pull away, but I pressed him back against my shoulder._

_If Sam was ready to sit up that was fine, but the apology made me think that he was doing it for my sake and not his. The teen's breathing wasn't even steady yet, and I knew how he needed to cling after nightmares._

" _I'm fine." He insisted, but his shaky tone told me otherwise._

" _I know." I agreed, without loosening my grip._

_Sam took that for the permission that it was, and allowed himself to lean more fully against me._

" _I've got you." I promised softly, rubbing lazily up and down his spin._

_I felt him nod against my shoulder as he released a shaky breath._

_We stayed like that for a few minutes, I would have stayed that way for a few days if the kid needed it. Sam's grip tightened around the amulet before he released it and began to pull away, I allowed it this time, knowing that he was doing it because he was ready and not because he was feeling embarrassed._

_I gave him a once over, he looked more at ease, more put together, but he made every effort to avoid my gaze._

" _Hey, none of that." I used two fingers against his chin to turn him back to face me, which he did with reluctance._

" _You're allowed to be scared, Sam." I reminded him._

_My brother clenched his jaw, but nodded._

" _I know, just feel stupid." He mumbled._

" _Well don't."_

" _Sure, I'll get right on that." Sam responded sarcastically._

_I let my hand fall from his neck and gave his bony knee a pat._

" _You alright?"_

" _Yeah. Sorry."_

" _Don't apologize."_

" _Okay…I'm not sorry for waking you up. I totally did it on purpose. I'm completely against you getting any sleep." Sam deadpanned._

" _Smart-ass." I chuckled._

_Sam sent me a sly grin before untangling himself from his sheets and swinging his legs over the side of the bed._

" _Can you hand me my cane?" He asked, pointing to the end of the bed where it lay on the floor._

" _What are you doing?" I asked, as I grabbed the object and handed it over to him._

" _I have to pee." He answered simply as he leveraged himself up out of the bed and shuffled sleepily toward the door._

_I began to re-organize the blankets so the bed would be ready for Sam when he returned when I heard him call my name – thankfully he said it in a much calmer way than he had earlier._

" _What?" I replied, glancing over my shoulder._

_Sam was standing in his over-sized sweats – my old ones – and staring at the doorway, or rather the object blocking the doorway._

" _What happened to the couch?" He questioned._

" _I moved it, Sherlock." I retorted._

_Sam threw me an annoyed look._

" _I'll move it out of your way." I offered._

" _No, it's okay, I can get past it. I'm not an invalid." Sam remarked, but he made no effort to move, instead just stood there looking between me and the couch and then back again. After a moment the confused lines in his face smoothed out into an extremely grateful expression._

" _Dean, you don't have to—_

" _Don't tell me what to do and go to the damn bathroom already." I ordered gruffly._

_I didn't need my little brother giving me an out, or relieving me of the responsibility of being his protector, because I would never_ _**ever** _ _give that up. And I certainly didn't need to have a discussion with the kid about just how over-protective I was being._

_Some things were better left un-discussed, unfortunately Sammy never saw it that way._

" _The door is locked and jammed closed, no one is getting in. You don't have to—_

" _Why are you still telling me what to do? I'm the older one, I give the orders." I declared, saying something I knew would get a reaction out of my brother._

_Just as I assumed it would, Sam's face screwed up in complete indignation and he glared over at me._

" _Just because you're older does not mean you get to boss me around!" He snapped back, taking the bait I had set for him._

" _That is exactly what it means. Now get your scrawny little ass to the bathroom already, because it's late and you have school tomorrow."_

_Normally Sam would have been more than willing to comply with that sort of demand, but not after I had so blatantly challenged his independence._

" _I can pull an all-nighter if I want to!"_

" _And can you also stop yourself from having to pee?"_

_Sam's glare returned as a pout settled around his mouth._

" _Don't be an idiot, Dean." He bit out, before turning up his chin and – despite his cane – swiftly climbing over the couch on his way to the washroom._

" _You're too easy, Sammy." I chuckled to myself, as I returned my attention to getting the bed ready for my kid brother's inevitable return._

_As per usual, the bickering was forgotten by the time he hobbled his way back into the bedroom._

" _You think you'll be able to get back to sleep?" I asked the young teen as he dropped onto the bed, allowing me to take his cane and lean it up against the wall, within his reach. Because I knew that sometimes after the specific brand of nightmare we were dealing with, sleep was not an option for Sam._

" _Yeah, I'm really tired, so I think I'll be fine." He stated, sounding just the least bit unsure, but confident enough to attempt it anyway._

" _That's my boy." I praised, always impressed and proud of my brother's courage._

_Sam was gracious enough not to scoff as I pulled the covers up over him, while he shifted into a horizontal position._

" _You should take one of the blankets." He declared, as he began to pull the top comforter off._

" _Leave it, dude. I've already got one." I said, swatting at his hands._

" _But it's not thick enough, and it's cold tonight." Sam argued, still working to separate his layered blankets._

" _Don't worry about it. I'm good. I've got more meat on my bones than you, it's good insulation."_

_Sam gave me a look that displayed very clearly how unimpressed he was with my argument, but he didn't push the issue any further._

" _Alright, night Squirt."_

_I ruffled Sam's hair and chuckled as he swiftly slapped my hands away and straightened his ridiculously mane._

_I turned to leave, making it less than a few steps before Sam called for me._

" _Dean?"_

" _Yeah?" I spun on my heel to face him._

_The teen had his long bangs covering his eyes, but I could see him chewing on his bottom lip and knew that he was working to say something._

" _What is it, Sam?" I prompted._

_He glanced up at me, his hazel eyes meeting mine._

" _You could just move the couch in here…the heater is in here so it's warmer and then I wouldn't have to climb over you if I have to pee again." Sam suggested._

_I was a second away from turning him down, telling him I was fine and not to worry about it, when I realized that Sam wasn't just requesting the move for my sake._

_If it had just been for my sake, the kid would have demanded I move the couch, because Sam was never shy when it came to pushing for what was best for me. He was, however, shy when it came to requesting something that he needed._

_Stupid kid._

_Didn't he know that if he wanted me in the room, all he had to do was ask?_

_I would have slept on the damn floor if he had wanted me to._

" _Sure. I wasn't looking forward to being woken up every five minutes because of your little girl bladder anyways. I should warn you that I think that salad made me gassy."_

" _Salad can't make you gassy. It's just vegetables."_

" _Dude tell that to my ass and all the funky smells that keep coming out of it."_

" _Ewe! That's nasty! Never mind, I take back my offer. Actually, the living room isn't far enough, how about you go sleep outside." Sam said, his expression the epitome of teenage disgust._

" _Sorry, Sammy. It's too late for that, you already offered!" I joked, angling the couch lengthwise so I could pull it into the bedroom._

" _Need help?" Sam offered, shimming his way out of bed before I could even reply._

" _No, dude, I got this." I said, watching to make sure Sam didn't try to get to his feet, I knew the kid's knee was probably killing, seeing as how we had run out of the good meds two days ago and the teen now only had the over-the-counter shit to ease his pain. That and the moron wouldn't stay off his feet long enough to give the damaged joint a freakin break._

_Once I positive Sam wouldn't be moving anywhere, I proceeded dragging the large piece of furniture into the average-sized bedroom._

_I made sure the couch was set up between Sam and the door, but far enough from the kid's bed that he was able to get off his mattress without any trouble._

" _You good if I close the door?" I asked._

_Sam wiggled down further under the covers and sent me a curious look._

" _Yeah, why wouldn't I be? You're in here."_

_It was such a simple statement, but it felt like medicine for my soul._

_Sam trusted me so much, felt so incredibly safe around me, even though I had let some sick bastard traumatize him, and another one threaten him in the hallway just a few hours ago._

_Sam seemed to be constantly reminding me how much he trusted me, how much faith he had in me, in the most simplistic ways._

_I closed the door and dropped onto the couch, tugging the blanket up over me and testing to be sure my handgun was still in reach._

_We both laid in the dark, I could tell by Sam's breathing that he wasn't sleeping, but still relaxed._

" _Do you think...you know, if you hadn't stopped him…do you think that guy woulda actually done – done what he said?" Sam whispered, his voice sounding almost haunted as he spoke of the horrors that could have been._

" _There's no point in thinking about it. I wouldn't have let him touch you. I_ _ **won't**_ _ever let anyone touch you." I vowed._

" _I know." Sam agreed quietly_

" _I shouldn't have let that sick sonuvabitch talk for so long. I should have shut him up the moment he opened his fucking mouth."_

" _Dean, it wasn't your fault." My little brother declared._

" _I know." I lied, knowing full-well there would be no way of convincing Sam that I hadn't done everything I could of, even if that was the truth._

" _Dean." Sam scolded, his tone disapproving._

_I made no reply._

" _Dean, look at me." He ordered._

" _I'm tired, Sam. Let me sleep." I grumbled, throwing my arm over my eyes for added effect._

_I was surprised to hear no further argument, but then I heard movement and a pained hiss sound through the room._

" _What the hell?" I murmured, dragging myself up into a semi-vertical position and looking over the back of the couch._

" _Dude, what the hell are you doing? You don't seriously have to pee again do you?" I asked, upon seeing my little brother sitting at the side of his bed and gripping his cane._

" _No, I wanted you to look at me." He explained._

" _Alright, alright, I'm looking at you. What is so important that you had to go and hurt yourself for?"_

" _I didn't hurt myself." The teen grouched, looking all of six-years-old._

" _Well you need to stop moving and give your damn knee a break, because I know that it is bugging you."_

" _Fine, just shut up and stop being bossy for two seconds so I can say what I need to stay, and then I will lie back down and rest my knee." Sam negotiated._

_I bit back a sarcastic response, and gave my brother an expectant look as I waited in silence to hear what was so terribly significant._

" _What happened was_ _ **not**_ _your fault. What happened today wasn't your fault, and what happened five years ago was not your fault."_

" _Sam." I warned, my face darkening as my rage began to rise at the mention of what had been done to my kid on my watch several years back._

" _Fine, we'll just talk about today then. What the landlord said, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault that he said it, or that I heard it."_

_I made to interrupt, to point out that I could have and should have shut the bastard up before he had the chance to frighten the teen, but Sam refused to let me speak._

" _You can't control every asshole on the planet, and you can't predict what they will do or say next. You shut him up, and you protected me. Just like you always do."_

_And damn if the kid wasn't radiating confidence. Sam was so certain of every word he spoke, he believed it to be the truth, and I knew he would argue that truth until he was blue in the face._

_My brother's faith in me, his unwavering trust in me, and his confidence that I would always protect him; it was what kept me going every damn day through our shit-storm of a life._

_Everyone always thought I was my brother's keeper, but if I was Sam's, he was mine just as much. The kid looked out for me just as much as I did him, he just did it in a different way. He kept me from crossing lines, from going too far – from killing humans even when they really fucking deserved it. He also comforted me much like he was doing now. Offering me reassurance in a way that only he could._

" _Dean?" Sam prompted._

_I wanted to answer, but I was having a hard time speaking past the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat. Even through the moonlit darkness, I could see Sam's hazel eyes searching my expression, and I knew I had better give the kid some sort of reaction before he hurt himself walking over to me._

" _I hear you, Sammy." I rasped, cursing the emotion that bled into my voice._

_Sam didn't say anything, but I could feel his gaze on me, and I knew he wasn't satisfied._

" _I get what you're saying, dude. I can't say that I agree with all of it—_

" _De—_

" _I can't say that, but I can say that you're safe now—_

" _Because of_ _ **you**_ _."_

" _You're save now, and that's all that matters to me. That's all I need to be okay."_

_I hadn't planned on being that honest, but the truth of my life rolled easily off my tongue, and it's not like it wasn't something that Sam didn't already know._

_The teen stared at me for another moment or two, his expression unclear in the dark, but I didn't miss the long put-upon sigh or the way he hung his head when he slid back under the covers._

_I felt bad._

_Sam was constantly saying all the right things, always telling me what I needed to hear without even knowing it; and I couldn't seem to return the favor. I just couldn't lie to the kid, couldn't say that I didn't feel any responsibility for the trauma that happened to him._

" _I'm sorry that's not the answer you wanted." I apologized to the ceiling as I laid on my back across the couch._

" _You don't have to be sorry. I want you to be honest with me…I…I just wish you could understand how many horrible things I would have been through if I didn't have you protecting me."_

_I frowned, not totally approving of the kid's train of thought. I didn't want Sam considering all the awful shit that_ _**could** _ _have happened to him. Hell, I didn't even want the kid thinking about all the garbage that had_ _**actually** _ _happened to him._

" _You don't need to think about that stuff, Sam. I will_ _ **always**_ _protect you." I promised._

_I was a fact that had always been so clear to me, it was a given that I would protect my kid brother, but I supposed it didn't hurt to verbalize it from time to time._

" _I know, Dean."_

_I could hear the smile in my little brother's voice, and while I didn't totally comprehend the reason for its arrival, I was more than content with its presence._

" _Get some sleep, Sammy." I instructed softly, not surprised by the sleepy sigh that flitted across the gap between us._

" _You too, De."_

_I smirked at the slurred response and the version of my name that always seemed to appear when the kid was half-asleep._

_It wasn't long before I heard Sam's breathing begin to even out._

_It took me longer to follow my little brother into dreamland, I was hesitant to surrender myself to sleep, my body still tense with the need and drive to protect. A glance over the couch at my little brother, calmed me immediately and soothed my nerves; the kid was sprawled on the side of the bed closest to me. He was no longer curled in the corner, but now feeling secure enough to sleep as he normally did. The fact that Sammy was finally feeling safe, was what permitted me to submit to the need to sleep._

_Sam was the priority of my life, and he always would be._

_I had vowed to myself that I would protect him and take care of him._

_And when I woke up in the morning, with a thick blanket spread across my long frame, I knew that I wasn't the only one who prioritized my brother._

_I wasn't the only one who cared about my brother more than myself._

_I wasn't the only one who worried about my brother._

_I wasn't the only one who would do anything for my brother._

_Everything I did for Sam, he did in return; regardless of whether or not I deserved it, or the fact that it was not required of him._

_We took care of each other and we always would._

_That was what brothers did, or at least what we did._

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" I said to Sam, the memory of the past fading slowly in my mind.

Sam turned from the door where Bobby had just exited.

"Do what?" He queried, looking perplexed.

And that was the thing about Sam. Not only did he put aside his own suffering to help other people, but he thought nothing of it. He never saw it as a sacrifice, it was natural for the kid. He never once considered not offering comfort. Sam was always too kind, too good, to ever be selfish, even when he had every reason to be.

"Make him feel better." I said, gesturing to the door.

Sam shrugged like it was nothing, because that's exactly what it was to him, nothing. He didn't understand how much his encouragement and reassurance mattered. Or how much he sacrificed by putting his own trauma on the backburner so that he could help other people through their distress.

"It's not a big deal." He said dropping back down into the chair.

"It is. It matters. It always mattered to me, and it mattered to Bobby." I declared, taking my seat across from him.

Sam looked up at me, eyebrows raised.

"When did I make you feel better?" He questioned, in complete confusion.

"You're kidding, right?" I shot back in disbelief.

Sam squinted over at me and shook his head.

"Dude, like all the freaking time. Every time I was messed up about something."

My little brother continued to stare at me as though I were sporting three heads.

"I don't remember ever doing anything for you. You were always the one doing everything for me. Protecting me, dealing with me whenever I had a freak-out or a nightmare."

It baffled me that this kid could recall everything I did for him, but not a single thing he did for me.

"Well for starters, you stopped me from killing the assholes that hurt you."

Sam shook his head at that.

"You wouldn't have killed them." He declared, with complete conviction.

"Yeah, Sammy, I would have. For what they did to you, I would have."

The younger man squinted at me, searching for the truth.

"I would have, but I didn't, because **you** wouldn't let me." I continued.

Sam looked unsure, as though he didn't believe I really would have gone through with killing humans. I was okay with that, I was okay with my little brother not knowing how violent I could be, how limitless, how relentless, and how many lines I would cross to keep him safe.

"And you believed in me. No matter what you trusted me to protect you…even when I didn't deserve that trust." I admitted.

"Yes, Dean, you did. You always protected."

"Not always." I added darkly.

Sam huffed.

"How many times are we going to have to go through this? You can't control other people and what they do or say. You couldn't predict everything that was going to happen. But you still did the best you could to protect me."

I knew this would be a matter that the two of us would never agree upon.

"Either way Sammy, it was you believing in me and having faith in me that got me through. It mattered to me and it made all the difference."

Sam's expression filled with emotion, the way it always did when we had one of these stupid girlie talks.

"I didn't know that, but I'm glad I could help." He stated softly.

I nodded, content that the kid finally understood – at least a little—that he had been there for me in the past, even in his own pain.

"Just…thanks. Thanks for believing me and having my back and…just, thanks." I stuttered out.

A number of emotions chased their way across Sam's expression, but before he could speak, I changed the subject.

"You still hungry?" I asked, nodding down to the stew in his bowl.

Sam cringed, clearly indicating that he was not.

"Sam? Can you eat it?"

He frowned glancing up at me and then down at his half-filled bowl.

"Just finish what you have there, please?" I requested softly, giving the kid a pleading look, because I knew how reminders of the pain of the past often stole Sam's appetite, but he was already too damn skinny.

As it turned out, Sam wasn't the only one who could get his way with a look.

"Alright." He sighed, picking up his spoon and taking a bite of his dinner.

"Don't slurp it." I chastised, taking a bite of my own dinner without making that irritating sound.

"Shut-up." Sam responded.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Stop being bossy." Sam retorted.

"I'm the first born, it's my birthright." I shot back with a grin.

"Oh yeah? So what's my birthright?" He questioned, appearing amused.

"Being a whiney bitch."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Jerk." He muttered.

I smirked at the insult, content with our familiar bantering and that the kid was eating.

"And Dean?"

"Yeah?" I replied, ready for the next playful insult, but Sam's face was serious.

"You said I never had to thank you for looking out for me, or saving me." He said.

I nodded, because those had indeed been my words.

"Well neither do you. You don't ever have to thank me for having your back, or being your brother. Okay?"

I thought for a moment before nodding again in agreement this time.

It made sense.

Part of being brothers was taking care of each other, and watching each other's backs.

It was looking out for one another and worrying about one another.

It was about being there.

It was about being supportive.

It was about being protective.

It was about being selfless.

It was about sacrifice.

It was more than blood.

It was unconditional.

It was unexplainable.

It was just us.

And I wouldn't change it for the world.

* * *

Note: Nearly 15,000 words...that would be why this fic takes time to update, because the chapters are absurdly lengthy. I really hope you enjoyed it and thank you SO much for reading! Any reviews/comments are 500% appreciated. Thanks again! - Sam


	11. Chapter 11

Note: ya...so I didn't sob my way through this entire chapter...I totally didn't do that...that would be so lame. Anyways, sorry for the delay, I don't forget about any of my fics, some of them just take more out of me than others. And this one takes a lot, for a lot of awful reasons. This chapter is going to hurt...I warn you now.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Bobby was supposed to take a few minutes to cool down, and then he was supposed to come back inside. Sam and I were supposed to be waiting for him. We were all supposed to hunker down and find the jack-hole that was messing with us. We were supposed to work together to put an end to it.

That was how it was _supposed_ to happen.

I wasn't supposed to wander outside to find Bobby unconscious on the ground, not having time to so much as blink before my head was exploding in pain. The world wasn't supposed to go dark. My last conscious thought wasn't supposed to be of Sam alone and vulnerable back at the house.

I wasn't supposed to wake up tied to a chair.

I wasn't supposed to open my eyes to see my kid brother in the same situation.

That bastard wasn't supposed to get the drop on us.

It was all wrong.

My mind screamed as my eyes landed on Sam. His eyes were wide with terror, the way I had sworn they would never be again. My gaze trailed down to the meaty arm that was moving around beneath his shirt. I traced the offending limb up out of my brother's shirt collar and to the man standing behind him, or more like leaning into him. It took me a moment, but I soon was able to connect the face leering over at me, with the grainy image of a man depicted on the pictures Bobby had of the post office's security footage. I knew him to be the man that Sam and I had seen from our surrogate uncle's porch all those years ago, the man that had later approached my kid brother and scared the shit out of him. Though, he looked a great deal older and fatter than I recalled the owner of that red truck ever being.

"Well it's about time big brother joined the party. Hope you don't mind, son, but Sammy and me started without you." The man stated, a sick grin spreading across his wrinkled face, as he moved his hand around beneath Sam's shirt, sliding it up and down the kid's chest.

Sam's thin frame was wracked by a shiver, but his gaze remained steady as he focussed on me.

I did my best to prevent my fury from entering my expression as I kept contact with my little brother's hazel eyes, doing my best to provide some form of reassurance.

The man used the hand that wasn't beneath Sam's shirt, to slide through his hair. Thick fingers invaded the brown locks, roughly dragging through them. Sam did his best to duck away from the touch, his gaze dropping to the floor as he was unable to escape the hand gripping his hair. Having lost Sam's eye-contact, I moved my line of site up to the asshole tormenting my kid.

"Get your filthy fucking hands off my brother, before I tear you apart." I seethed. My head pounding from the concussion I had no doubt received, but I pushed the pain away. I didn't have time for pain. Sammy needed me.

The man – if he could even be called that – grinned in amusement and quirked an eyebrow.

"Threatening me already?" He inquired, clicking his tongue as he shook his head from side-to-side. "You don't even know my name yet, or the special connection I have to Sammy-boy."

The way my kid brother's name slithered off his tongue had me fighting back a shutter, as I glared at the asshole, practically growling with hatred as I watched his fingers slide from Sam's hair and down his face, tracing his jawline. My brother jerked away, his eyes flickering between my face and the floor.

I could tell he was working to keep his expression schooled, but I didn't miss the flash of terror in his hazel orbs.

My fury rose as I sent a hateful look to the bastard slipping his arm impossibly further down Sam's shirt. His grin widened, I wasn't sure if it was due to my obvious rise in anger, or the return of my attention, but either way it was more than unsettling.

"You see, Sammy and I share a history. Even he doesn't know the extent of it."

As if the words weren't chilling enough, our captor pulled a switchblade from his pocket, flicking it open as he spoke.

I stiffened at the sight of the weapon, my fear for my brother's life escalating as the sharp object dangled in the hand draped over his shoulder.

"Don't you dare hurt him—

"Relax, I would never injure this precious boy. You don't know how long I have been waiting for this moment." He spoke through a smile, taking the blade and slicing it through Sam's shirt.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam questioned, his tone dark as he watched his shirt being cut away. The last time the kid had to watch a stranger slice off his clothes, it had been one of the most traumatic nights of his life. From the glimpse I caught of his face, hidden beneath all that hair, I knew the San was trying so hard to keep himself together, and I was so damn proud of him, silently willing him to keep holding on.

"You don't remember me? We had that nice conversation awhile back."

"I know that. But who the _hell_ are you?"

"I'm the man who has spent the last decade trying to get my hands on you, Sam."

Sam flinched at the statement. I glared daggers into the man in front of me, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

Sam's shirt was pulled off him in pieces, until he was sitting, strapped to the chair, bare-chested. The younger man still had bruises from the abuse he had received from my skin-snatching body double, they were faded to a light mixture of purple and yellow. He was too fucking skinny. He had been thin when I picked him up from Stanford, but no more than usual, he was always a stick of a kid. However, losing Jessica had done nothing to improve the kid's level of food intake. For the first couple months it was a fight just to get Sam to eat enough to keep someone of his size alive. We had just begun to make progress in the dietary department, when this whole shit-storm had hit.

My stomach twisted at the realization that I had not been the only one staring at my brother's chest, and while my gaze had been calculating, the older man's was ogling. He damn near licked his lips as his beady eyes lurked across the pale skin. I could see Sam working not to shrink under the gaze, and watched as he hunched in on himself, doing what he could to hide in plain sight.

"How do you know us?" I questioned, partly out of genuine curiosity, but mostly just desperate to pull the creep's attention off my brother.

"Can't you two ever just enjoy the moment? It took me forever to drag your heavy asses into my truck, and then drag you inside and tie you up. So cut it out with all the stupid questions." It was the first snippet of genuine frustration that had come out of the man, but he still smiled through it, his dirtied, uneven teeth on display.

"What the fuck do you want, asshole?" I demanded, having had enough of the games, and that stupid, sick, grin of his.

"Oh Dean, I have got everything I want. Finally." He intimated joyously, moving closer to Sam and spreading his sausage-like fingers across the young man's abdomen, slowly edging them up his chest to his collarbone.

"Don't touch him!" I hollered, reefing on my restraints, not caring how I could feel them biting into my skin.

"Get your fucking hands off me." Sam spat. To anyone else - to the man feeling him up - he sounded lethal. Only I could hear the slight strain in his voice, betraying the fear that was hidden beneath the wall of anger, and it killed me.

The man reluctantly retracted his touch, with an exasperated huff.

"Who are you?" Sam questioned, in the same murderous tone.

The older man sighed loudly. "I can see that we won't be able to move forward until after introductions have been made. Pity."

He moved away from us, and toward the other side of the room. I hadn't paid much mind to our environment, having been too distracted by the scumbag putting his fat fingers all over my brother. I kept our captor on my radar, as I took in our surroundings, searching for a way out, my mind racing to form a plan of escape. The room reminded me vaguely of Bobby's study. There were bookshelves all around the four walls, some of them held books, but most seemed to be stacked with videos, both VHS tapes and DVDs. There was a television in the corner and a desk on the far wall, a large chair behind it. However, it was far filthier than Bobby's place. There were take-out containers and other various forms of trash strewn about. Empty liquor bottles littered nearly ever surface. The room smelled stuffy, as though it had never encountered any amount of fresh air. The dark curtains were pulled, the only light being that coming from the multiple lamps scattered throughout the space.

The man walking over toward the desk, really wasn't much too look at. He was very overweight, his legs quite short, it was a real wonder how they were able to support the rest of the body's mass. He was wearing beige pants and a grey t-shirt. His clothing was wrinkled and spotted in stains. His hair – what little of it there was to speak of – was grey and wispy atop his scalp. His skin was white, so white that I doubted he had seen daylight in the past few years. He wore glasses that appeared too small for his fat face, which was covered with wrinkles.

"This one is my favorite. So I keep it close." He announced, pulling a VHS tape from one of the desk drawers.

I glanced over at Sam, who was frowning, his eyes squinted in confusion as they tracked the older man.

Damn, the kid was so fucking brave. He had every right to be falling apart. Every right to be crumbling and the memories that haunted him, or the mistreatment he was experiencing, and yet he remained stoic and observant.

My attention was torn from him at the sound of my name being screamed.

It was Sam, but a much younger Sam.

My head snapped around, searching out the source of that desperate cry.

It had come from the television. The older man stood in front of it, blocking my view of the screen, but a glance over at my kid brother, told me that he could see what was happening, and by the mortified expression on his face, I knew it wasn't anything good.

The older man stepped back from the TV set, but he didn't take his eyes off it. I was finally able to see what was happening, eager to discover where the screams of my name were originating from. What I saw stopped my heart.

It was the motel room, that damn motel room. It was like we were looking down into it, a birds-eye view of the room where our lives changed forever. That sick-fuck who my father had killed all those years, was dragging my little brother – my ten year-old little brother – into the room. He had Sam's skinny arms trapped in his large hands, as he ripped him away from where he was clutching onto the wall, and threw him at the bed. Sam's small body slammed against the bedframe and crumbled to the ground. Before there was time to blink, he was crawling quickly across the room to the door, shouting my name as he reached the doorknob, only to have his legs ripped out from under him. I watched in horror as Sammy was dragged on his stomach across the carpet, and tossed carelessly onto the bed. The entire time he screamed my name.

"Dean! Dean! Help me. Please. Dean!" The kid's voice cracked and rasped as he begged for me to come save him.

His skinny arms and legs fought against the man working to tie him to the bed. I could hear that asshole speaking as he tied each of my brother's limbs to a corner of the single bed. He was ordering Sam to be still and silent, smacking him around when he didn't cooperate, being so incredibly rough and violent with the tiny child.

I couldn't breathe.

I felt like there was a hand wrapped around my heart, clenching it, preparing to rip the organ right out of my chest.

Sam was crying. Sobbing for me. Repeating my name over and over, among a mantra of helps and pleases.

I could do nothing but watch as the black and white image on the screen, showed the man walking away from Sam, leaving the kid eagle-spread on the bed, only to return with a pair of scissors. The young boy tugged harder at his restraints, trying to move away from sharp tool that began to slice up his pant leg.

"Stay still Sammy, I don't want to cut you." The man advised. His voice was all too-familiar, I had heard it so many times in my nightmares since that day. I could only imagine how much worse it would be for Sam to have to hear it again.

I glanced over at my brother, seeing the utter despair lining his features.

"Sam." I called to him, over the desperate please of his younger self that were filling the room, and the gleeful remarks coming from the other man on the screen.

"Sam." I repeated again, desperate to save my brother from the horrific memory that was playing out before his eyes.

The older man stepped closer to us, using his remote to turn the volume on the television up, as though he were trying to drown out my voice, keeping Sam's attention where he wanted it.

"Turn it off!" I ordered, sounding every bit as furious and threatening as John Winchester had in his most lethal of moments.

All my outburst awarded me was a slight flinch and a glance from the asshole positioned between my brother and I, before his eyes returned to the screen, where Sammy's had yet to venture from.

I stared helplessly at the TV, unable to ignore my kid brother's frantic cries. His pants and shirts had been removed, tossed down onto the filthy shag carpet. The little boy was releasing hiccupped sobs as he continued to call out for me, his body attempting to contort away, as the man kneeling on the bed next to him began caressing his skin. Petting him. As if the kid was some fucking animal or something.

"You're so goddamn pretty when you cry." He cooed, one of his filthy hands moving up to cup Sam's cheek. The youngest Winchester flinched away, as though he had been burned, pulling fruitlessly at the ropes encircling his wrists, and begging for me to help him.

"No." Sam whispered in aguish. I glanced over, having to crane my neck just to see my brother past the bastard standing between us. Sam was ghostly pale, his eyes full of dread as they focussed on the screen. I followed his gaze.

The man pressed a kiss on my ten-year-old brother's lips, muffling his screams for a moment, before nuzzling his face into the kid's chest and sliding a hand down the front of his own pants. The sick fuck didn't seem to be the least bit disturbed by the shaking, keening chid beneath him; he simply did as he pleased. It was by far the most abhorrent thing I had ever laid eyes on, and I had seen some pretty evil shit. He traced his large hand up and down my brother's thin white thighs, pleasuring himself with his other hand, grinning up at the camera as he did so. It was then that I realized this man knew that they were being filmed. He was putting on a fucking show for someone.

The sonuvabitch's hand lingered on Sam, as he climbed off the bed, disappearing from view for a short moment before returning with a camera.

"Give me a pose, boy. Come on now. Show the camera how sexy you are." The man encouraged, moving closer as he snapped pictures.

Sam cowered away as much as he could while still being tied to all four corners of the bed.

"Stop it! Stop it now, please! DEAN! Help me, Dean. _Please_!"

I felt my eyes fill, each of my little brother's pleading cries were like steaks penetrating my soul.

"Fuck." I croaked, feeling my body shake with grief and rage.

The man on the video made his way closer to my brother, his back blocked the video camera from seeing his actions, but I could tell that he was moving my little brother's boxers out of the way, snapping more pictures.

I felt bile rising up my throat at the image of my kid being violated in such a way.

The scream Sam released was louder and more feral than anything I had ever heard come from him before, and it finally elicited a reaction from his tormentor.

"Oh, you're a loud one. I see." He murmured teasingly. Releasing his hold on my brother's one remaining piece of clothing, as he reached over to the bedside table. Sam was panting, squirming to get free, crying out for me one last time before a large piece of duct tape sealed his lips.

My kid proceeded to sob beneath the tape, but his words were muffled.

The camera was eventually discarded, the pedophile finally pulling his hand from beneath his own waistband, only to straddle my kid brother and slide it down his instead.

The tears welling up in my eyes made it difficult for me to see the screen clearly, but I didn't need to. I could hear that pathetic excuse for a human being, raving about how soft Sam's skin was, and about how badly he wanted the kid since he laid eyes on him, in between the kisses he was scattering across my baby brother's small frame. I could hear Sam's strangled screams past the tape, and hear the bed post rattling as he fought to get free. Another sound began to rise above the noise of the video. It was a groaning, and I knew immediately the reasoning for it, though my mind refused to believe such and egregious notion until I forced my eyes to witness it.

The bastard standing between me and Sam, had tossed the remote down by his feet, and had one hand moving around beneath his trousers, as the other slid into my brother's hair.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" I roared, my entire chair shaking as I grappled against my restraints.

The sonuvabitch just looked at me and winked, turning his attention back to the screen as he kept his hold in Sam's hair.

Sam fought against it, fighting to pull his head away from the touch.

"You're such a fuckable little boy."

The line was said by both the pedophile on the screen and the one standing next to me, my throat closed up at the horror of the statement, as well as the realization that the pervert had fucking _memorized_ the goddamned video.

The sound of retching momentarily distracted me from the revulsion of it all.

The bastard released Sam's hair as the kid began to heave. My brother promptly turned to the side and puked all over the asshole's shoes. If I wasn't so fucking concerned, I would have laughed at the disgusted look on the older man's face. The scumbag stepped forward, away from the sickness that was pooling on the floor, and returned his eyes to the screen, not even bothering do remove his hand from his crotch. Now that the asshole had moved, I could had a clear view of the younger man.

Sam was still gagging out bile, having nothing to toss. His face was pale and his entire body trembled, and I knew it was from more than his revolting stomach. I waited for the heaving to end, before calling out to my brother, and ignoring the sounds coming from the television and the sick bastard positioned slightly in front of us.

"Sam."

He made no response, staring down at the ground as he proceeded to shake. I needed to get his attention, needed to keep the kid from going into shock, and by the look of it, I probably didn't have much time to do so.

"Sam. Look at me." I ordered, borrowing the stern voice of John Winchester for a moment, hoping it would do the trick.

It did not, of course. Sam had never been much for orders, his response to them had always been reluctant at best. I shook my head at my own stupidity.

"Sammy, please."

And we have a winner.

Two wide hazel eyes flashed up at me. The amount of emotion pouring out of them, stole the air from my lungs. The fear and despair were most apparent, but I could just as clearly spot the concern, as Sam's gaze swept over me.

I felt a small smile pulling at my lips, damn this kid, strapped to a chair and being fucking traumatized, and still worried about me.

"It's okay, Sam. You hearing me, little brother? We're fine. Everything is going to be okay." I assured him, my voice oozing confidence that my heart didn't feel. My hands were twitching, desperate to reach out and provide comfort like they had always been trained to do when my little brother looked at me so helplessly.

Sam's nose flared and his jaw clenched, two sure signs that he was fighting to hold back tears, as he nodded.

Brave fucking kid.

The man in the room groaned loudly, his sexual noise echoing over the cries of a younger Sam sounding from the video.

Sam flinched at the sound, his eyes welling up and face colouring in shame, as he looked down.

"Hey!"

Sam's gaze snapped back up at my loud burst.

"Don't. You've done nothing wrong. Nothing." I declared, needing my little brother to know that the shame he was feeling didn't belong to him.

Sam made no response, appearing absolutely devastated as his eyes met mine.

I wanted to spend more time reassuring him, was desperate to provide my kid some degree of comfort, but that chance was stolen from me when I felt thick fingers gripping my short hair.

The older man had moved and was standing to the left of me. He used his hold on my hair to force me to face the television. He was standing in close to me, his body pressed up against me as he ducked his head next to mine, his face brushing against my own.

"Watch closely, boy. You're about to make your debut."

His breath was nasty. I tried to move my head away, hating the feel of his skin against my cheek, but he simply tugged me closer to him.

"Don't fucking touch me, you bastard." I growled, but my protests were ignored.

"Watch." He repeated, I could hear a smile in his voice, and did my best to glare at him out of the side my eyes, not looking at the screen until a loud bang attracted my attention.

The door to the motel room wasn't visible on the screen, but as I heard a younger, higher-pitched version of my own voice reverberate through the room, I knew what was happening. I watched and listened, though the memory playing out in my head was a hundred times clearer than the one I was watching unfold on TV. The sick-fuck followed my orders, removing his hand from beneath my kid brother's boxers, and scampering off the side of bed like the chicken shit he was. It was then that my younger self appeared on the screen.

"I've got to say, Dean. I always thought you were a little too old for my taste, but the way you stand there, so in control. It always gets me going."

I cringed at the man's words, as the hand that didn't have a death-grip on my hair, the one that had just recently been in his pants, slid beneath my layers of clothing. I clenched my jaw, knowing that no amount of protests or hurled insults were going to get the sonuvabitch off of me.

"I was surprised when I first saw this beautiful masterpiece, of how attracted I was to you. I am usually far more interested in the vulnerable, submissive types, like little Sammy—

"Don't you dare talk about him. Don't you fucking speak his name!" I spat, rage pumping through my body like blood, as I sent a hateful look to my left, frustrated at the inability to turn my own damn head.

"But you, and your dominance. So much power in one little boy. So much hotter than I ever thought it would be." The man purred, nuzzling his face into my neck, as his hand drifted lower, his fingers dancing across the waistband of my jeans.

I tensed at the intrusion, and possibly the disturbing words. I was just about to tell the pervert exactly what he could do with his wandering hands, when Sam reacted.

"Get your hands off of him! Don't you touch him! I will fucking _kill_ you."

The loud outburst was unexpected, to say the least. The older man actually tore his eyes from the drama playing out on the television screen, to look over at my little brother. Thankfully, the surprise of Sam's reaction, also caused the man to lessen his grip on my hair, which enabled me to turn my head and look at Sam.

He looked furious.

He was straining against the rope attaching him to the chair. His entire body tense and fists clenched. His composer screamed violence as his jaw clenched in – what I could see to be – a barely contained fury. What caught my attention the most, was the absolute hatred shooting from my brother's eyes.

I hadn't seen or heard Sam release such feral rage in years. Actually, the last time I had seen it, had been about half a decade ago.

The memory captured my mind before I had the chance to repress it.

_We were at some seedy bar in the middle of nowhere, hell, weren't we always?_

_I was bluffing my way through poker, like always._

_Trying to make ends meet, like always._

_The other men at the table were a rough bunch, like always._

_Sam was hidden away in the corner with a book, like always._

_It was a night just like all the others._

_I tossed a couple of twenties into the pot, raising the stakes, pretending that the small stack of bills wasn't of any importance to me at all; pretending that I was too tipsy to care, as I took another swig of my fourth beer. That was the key of playing against the older, rougher types. They assumed that a boy of my age couldn't hold his licker. I was twenty years old, and even with a fake id adding a year to my age, I was still decades younger than the other men at the table. They naturally saw me as nothing more than some little punk, a perception I - of course - did everything to encourage. Downing one beer and acting tipsy by the second. Making sloppy mistakes and flirting loud, and shamelessly, with waitresses twice my age by the third._

_It was an act_

_I knew it._

_Sam knew it._

_My opponents did not._

_I glanced over into the corner, smirking at the sight of my kid brother, his nose buried in a book as his beer sat neglected on the edge of the table. Most teens would be psyched to go to a bar on a school night, not to mention use a fake id and have their awesome older brother buy them a beer. Sam, however, couldn't have cared less. He seemed much more content to spend the night studying like the little dork he was. I knew he would have preferred to stay back at the motel and read in peace, but – as per usual – the place was sketchy as hell, and colder than the damn arctic. The heater was finicky as shit and when the damn thing did come on it was useless, which was just fantastic, seeing as how it was fucking February. Sam had warn five layers to bed last night, and I had still woken to the kid's shivering at an obscene hour; he was pissed at me in the morning when he woke up to find one of my blankets added to his own, he was furious at me, as though the teen expected me to just roll over and allow him to shiver all night long._

_Moron._

_The bar may not have been the greatest homework spot, but at least it was warm, and that would have to do for now._

_I forced my attention back to the game, glancing at my watch as I eyed the bills piling up in the centre of the table. It was getting late, and Sammy had school tomorrow. I knew the kid wouldn't whine if I decided to play for another couple hours, he wouldn't complain about having to go to class dead tired tomorrow, wouldn't bitch about not getting any sleep, because he knew we needed the money. I hated that. I hated that Sam was far too aware of our financial situation. I hated that he never pointed out the fact that his shoes were falling to pieces, and his hand-me-down clothes were all too big. I hated the way my old clothes seemed to drape off the kid. He was getting a little taller, slowly but surely; our father was convinced that Sam would be sprouting up any day now, but it had yet to happen._ _Al_ _l_ _l my old clothes were too long and too wide for my small, skinny little brother. That was part of the reason we were out tonight, neither of us had had a solid meal in at least a couple weeks, and I had seen Sam tighten his belt this morning._

_It was unacceptable._

_And it was my doing._

_I had wrecked my right shoulder on a hunt a few weeks back and – until recently – I had been too injured and drugged up to do much about our dwindling finances, but I was good now. My arm was still in a sling, and while that inhibited my ability to hunt, it didn't prevent me in the least from collecting some cash. I knew Sam had been frustrated with me earlier when I refused to take my pain meds, but they fogged up my mind, and I couldn't have that, not tonight. Sam had been holding down the fort too long. Since Dad took off on a hunt as soon as I got the 'all clear' at the hospital, it was my kid brother who was left taking care of everything. Sam had been the one sitting beside me at the hospital once I got out of surgery. He was the one who had to listen to all the doc's notes on how to take care of my shoulder. He was the one who had to use his savings to pay for the meds, because our fake health insurance hadn't gone through. He was the one who had to drive me home. He was the one who had to make sure I took my meds and look after my sorry ass, all the while trying to juggle school. No, there would be no more of those pills for me, Sam was exhausted and warn out, and it was my turn to take point._

_I mentally committed to finishing this hand and then calling it a night. I had enough cash to get us through the next week or two, and enable us to eat real food that didn't come from a can. Sam needed rest and – if I was being honest – my shoulder was killing me. As if it were agreeing with my thoughts, the aching limb spiked in pain. I grimaced, shifting slightly at the discomfort, my focus shifting from the game as I felt eyes on me._

_Sam was staring my way, his brow furrowed in what I knew to be concern. I made to shrug, but thought better of it, and simply shook my head instead, indicating that his apparent worry was not necessary. Sam, of course, paid not mind to my dismissal, and continued to stare my way with blatant concern pasted across his young face._

_I rolled my eyes, before turning my attention back to the game, eager to play my hand and get it over with. Hustling could be a thrill on occasion, and cheating a bunch of scummy bikers out of a chunk of cash was always good fun, but I was a little too tired to care tonight._

" _Maybe if you paid some attention to the game and stopped making eyes at your underaged girlfriend over there, you'd be a better player."_

_One of the men around the table snapped. I glared over at him, my rebel-without-a-cause persona put on hold for a moment as I loaded my gaze with warning. Because I laughed off the jabs about my age, baby-face, and lack of facial hair. I didn't blink when the group of vulgar assholes insulted my hair, my jacket, or my necklace. I didn't even react when one of them commented that I probably still 'sucked my mother's tits', though that had been a difficult one to swallow. I put up with all the name calling and all the obscene comments, even the ones having to do with my mother, who was often the most taboo of topics. I put up with it all because I needed the money._

_Because my little brother needed shoes and a decent meal._

_Because I would put up with fucking anything for Sammy._

_But the second the large man across the table mentioned the teen, the second his beady little eyes darted near Sam's corner of the bar, all bets were off._

_Because I would put up with anything –_ _**anything** _ _– except threats toward my kid._

" _Maybe if you shut the fuck up and played your own cards, you wouldn't be getting your ass kicked, old man." I sneered, dropping my hand onto the table, displaying my full-house for all to see._

" _That's nothing more than beginner's luck, boy." The man spat._

" _You can bitch all you want, asshole, I still won." I declared flatly, snatching the bills from the center of the table, and sliding them into my pocket before any other players decided to be sore losers._

_The grumbling coming from the other players was less than pleasant, but I responded with nothing more than a cocky smile, my James Dean façade firmly back in place._

" _Thanks for the game, guys, but I think I've had just about too much fun for one night." I quipped cheerfully, downing the remainder of my beer._

" _Hey! That's not how this works. You have to give us a chance to win it back." Another man argued._

_I swiftly shook my head._

" _The last four games were your chance, pal. Sorry 'bout your luck." I drawled._

_The men all seemed miserable and pissed, but none of them were getting out of their chairs, and the next hand was already being dealt. It would seem none of them planned to get violent, I mentally nodded at the realization, turning to Sam. He was coming to the same conclusion about the players' inclination to violence that I had, his wary gaze softening as his tense posture relaxed. He closed his book and looked my way. I canted my head to the back corner of the bar, where the restrooms were located, and then nodded at the door. I knew Sam got the message that I needed to take a leak and would meet him at the car. I also knew he understood that I wanted him heading outside, it didn't seem as though there would be any violence, but I didn't want to take any chances. If my bladder didn't feel as though it were about to explode, I would have waited to pee until we were back at the motel, I didn't love the idea of leaving Sam alone. I tossed my little brother the keys, knowing it was cold outside, and I would feel better if the kid was waiting safely inside the Impala instead of standing alone in the parking lot. Besides, I had a few, so Sam would be the one driving us back to the motel anyways._

_I was in the bathroom washing up when two of them men I had been playing against came in. The beady eyed man that made a comment about my brother, and the one who had been bitter about me not playing another round. Bitter stood in front of the door, his back against it, as Beady made his way closer to me._

_My body tensed, muscles prepping for a fight, but my expression remained impassive._

" _Can't give a guy a little privacy?"_

_Beady wasn't amused._

" _Give me my money, boy." He demanded, reaching his palm out as he proceeded to approach me._

" _I may be newer to the game than you, but I'm pretty sure that's not how poker works, dumbass." I responded, a shit-eating grin on my face, as I moved to walk around the burly imposter, my hand drifting toward the back of my jeans were my handgun was tucked away._

_I saw the moment he reached out for me, and immediately deflected, dodging his reach, and using his own momentum to shove him off balance. Beady grunted, smacking his palms against the wall to steady himself._

" _You little shit." He cursed, his rage visibly escalating as he advanced on me. I readied myself for the battle, only to be side-lined by a sudden blow to the head. The hit was unexpected, having come from the man at my back. I got a few shots in, felt a nose crack under my knuckles, but the scuffle was over far too quickly when another man joined the party. At some point I ended up on the ground, my head pounding, before I had time to ponder another form of attack, I was being dragged to my feet. I struggled briefly, but it didn't take long to realize the hold that the two men had on me was solid. Each man had one of my arms in their grip, my sling had been dislodged at some point in the struggle, and my shoulder now screamed in agony at the position it was being forced into. One of them also had a handful of my hair and was using it to keep my noggin still and prevent me from head-butting anyone._

_I growled in frustration, fighting against my human restraints for a few more moments, before reluctantly stilling, the pain in my shoulder becoming unbearable._

" _You see, boy, we don't like it when some little punk comes into_ _ **our**_ _bar and steals from us." Beady snarled, stepping into my face, but just far enough away that I couldn't kick him in the junk, something I desperately desired to do._

" _I didn't steal shit." I responded._

" _You cheated –_

" _Prove it."_

_Beady's expression darkened._

" _You don't want to do this, kid." He warned._

" _It ain't my problem that you're a sore fucking loser." I replied flippantly._

_Beady appeared impossibly more enraged as he reached out, I knew he was going for the cash in my pocket, and it was the moment I had been waiting for._

_I moved fast, my knee cracking at the speed and force of my leg's extension, as my foot slammed into the older man's family jewels. He buckled over, just as I hoped he would, and I jerked my knee right up into his face._

_That was the end of my attack, because while my efforts had damaged one man, the other two didn't seem to be the least bit phased, their grip on me remaining strong. They roughly jerked me back, twisting my arms painfully behind me and forcing me to stop struggling. My entire body shuddered in anguish as my damaged shoulder screamed from the abuse._

_Beady took a moment to collect himself. I smirked as I watched him straighten with obvious difficulty. He glowered at me as he wiped away the blood leaking from his split lip._

" _You are going to regret that, boy."_

_I just barely refrained from rolling my eyes at the threat._

_Beady looked over my shoulder, at the bathroom door._

" _Bring him in!" He called out._

_I inwardly groaned, wondering how many more men we were going to squeeze into the damn bathroom. As if he could hear my internal aggravation, Beady levelled me with a look._

" _In a minute, you are going to be_ _ **begging**_ _me to take back my money."_

_I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes at that one. I was about to tell the asshole just how much of a moron he was, but what happened put an abrupt halt to my thoughts._

_The bathroom door opened again, I didn't bother trying to look behind me. I assumed it was more of the douche-bag's posse that entered, not that the hand fisting my hair would allow me to turn my head to confirm any of that._

_But then I heard it._

_My name, coming from a voice I had been attuned to nearly my entire life._

_Sammy._

_I fought to turn my head, but was unable._

" _No." I breathed, panic rising in my chest._

_Sam was supposed to be out in the car._

_He was supposed to be_ _**safe** _ _._

_The young teen was shoved in front of me, the other two men who had been at the table, had hold of him. Sam struggled just as I had, but it did no good. The men on either side of him were both about three times his size. Frantic hazel eyes met mine. I offered them as much reassurance as I could muster, schooling my expression to one of self-assurance, hiding my terror. I could see Sam calm a little from the non-verbal interaction, but only a little, because the hold the two men had on him was harsh and unrelenting._

_I tore my eyes away from my little brother and directed them at Beady, allowing my green orbs to fill with every ounce of rage and fury that I possessed._

" _Let him go." I ordered darkly._

_A self-satisfied grin lit up the scumbag's bloody face._

" _I knew this would do it. I saw how many times you looked this kid's way during the game. And the way you got all serious when I mentioned him, it's obvious that you've got a thing for him." Beady observed, stepping up behind Sam, placing a hand on my brother's shaggy head._

_Sam jerked away from the touch, but that only caused Beady to entwine his fingers into the long locks._

" _Not that I can blame you, if he weren't quite so thin, he'd be a nice piece of ass."_

_I recoiled, Sam did the same, flinching at the vulgar words._

_My shock dissipated instantly at the abject horror that twisted my kid's features. He visibly shrunk under the hands holding him, his head hanging in defeat instead of raised in rebellion the way it had been. I watched the fight drain out of my little brother as he was objectified by that asshole._

_That asshole who I immediately loathed so much more than I had just seconds ago._

_That asshole who had managed to make my strong, independent, Sam look so defeated._

_That asshole who was soon to be so fucking dead._

" _Shut the hell up!" I roared, fighting to get free, wanting nothing more than to launch at the monster who had yet to remove his nicotine-stained fingers from my brother's hair._

_Beady snickered, causing the other four men in the room to do the same._

" _Come on, son. I'm doing you a favor. This little cunt probably isn't even of age yet. Are you, boy?"_

_Sam's face became impossibly paler, as Beady forced his head back, their cheeks touching as the older man spoke directly into my kid's ear, but kept his eyes trained on me._

" _Don't you fucking touch him!" I cried out, struggling against the hands holding me, fighting to get free, until the pain in my shoulder threatened to steal my consciousness._

_Beady chuckled, as if I had said something quite hilarious._

" _Relax buddy, I'm not in to the young ones." He declared, using his hold in Sam's hair to shove the kid's head dismissively to the side. Sam didn't even wince at the treatment, he just let his head move where it was forced and then hang down, his chin nearly touching his chest. He was shutting down. Not only was the young teen devoid of any fight, but he seemed entirely unreactive to anything._

_I had never seen Sam like that. I had seen him hurt and exhausted. I had seen him silent and frightened. I had seen him fucking traumatized, but I had never seen him so withdrawn._

_So defeated._

_Beady moved around, until he was standing in front of me. I could feel his breath on my face as he moved in close, our chests almost meeting as he invaded my space._

" _I prefer the more experienced ones." He declared, a sick smile on his face as he trailed his fingers along my jawline. I tried to jerk my head away, but the hand in my hair wouldn't allow it._

" _Get your hands off of me." I ordered in a low growl. That finally got a reaction out of my despondent little brother, whose head shot up at my words._

_Beady snickered, his hand sliding down my chest until it reached my waist, and then snaking its way underneath my layers of shirts and creeping back up over my abdomen._

" _I bet you've been around the track a few times. Haven't you, boy?"_

_I did nothing but glare at the perv, as I fought to ignore the feel of his fingers stalking across my skin._

" _No."_

_The raspy exclamation came from Sam. I sent my gaze back to my little brother. He was white with fear, his eyes wide in shock, and mouth slack with realization. Before I had time to reassure him, I was being forced down onto my knees. The two men behind me, twisting my arms, and pressing down on my shoulders; one of them slamming his shoe into the back of my knee, causing it to buckle._

_I grunted as my joints connected with the cold bathroom floor. Despite the discomfort of my position, and the agony pulsing through my injured shoulder, I relished the absence of Beady's touch, finally able to take a breath without his hand shadowing my diaphragm. That relief was short lived, as that same hand wove into my hair, gripping it tightly from the front, trading off with the one that had been keeping my head still from the back._

" _How about you and I show the kid how it's done."_

" _No!"_

_Sam's cry pre-empted my understanding by a few seconds. It wasn't until Beady reached for the zipper on his jeans, that I truly understood his intentions. My lungs constricted, my heart slammed in my chest, and my brain spun._

" _I'll even let you keep the cash, if you're any good."_

_My body and mind were just beginning to catch up with each other, when Sam reacted._

_He just snapped._

_There was no other word to describe what happened to the kid._

_One minute he was docile, and before there was time to do so much as blink, he became vicious. By the time my gaze switched from Beady to Sam, one of the men who had been holding the young teen, was already unmoving on the floor. The other was receiving a vicious right cross to the jaw. It would seem the other men were just as surprised as I was at Sam's sudden action. I used their astonishment to my advantage. I ripped my one arm free and jerked my head away in one swift movement. Not giving them time to react, I jumped to my feet and pulled the handgun out from the back of my jeans, clocking one of them men over the head with it. He dropped to the ground obviously unconscious. The second one didn't go down as easy, he was on me immediately. He quickly knocked my firearm from my hand, as he jabbed viciously at my messed up shoulder, making me cry out, and nearly drop to my knees as white hot fire attacked the nerves in my right limb. A quick blow to my face had me tasting blood. I worked to stay on my feet, managing to deliver a return shot to the older man's kidneys. The solid connection had the man doubling over, which was all I needed. I grabbed the back of his head, getting a hold as unrelenting as the one he had on me, and forced his skull into my rising knee. The sickening crack was enough to know the bastard wouldn't be getting up any time soon. I turned, ready to fight the next asshole, but what I saw had me freezing in my tracks._

_The two men who had been holding Sam, were sprawled out unmoving on the tile, but Beady was still standing, and he had an arm across my brother's chest, and a gun to his head._

_My gun._

_That sonuvabitch was holding my fucking Beretta, to_ _**my** _ _kid's head._

_I didn't think I could have ever hated the sick pervert any more than I already had, but in that moment, seeing how he was threatening Sam's life, seeing how hard he was pressing my gun into the side of my little brother's temple, seeing how he ducked behind the teen, using him as some sort of shied, I abhorred him with every ounce of my being._

_Beady had just done a very dangerous thing. He had removed himself from the category of things I hated: bullies, nosy-CPS-calling teachers, pathetic-abusive- assholes in bars; and placed himself in the category of things that deserved to die, along with monsters and the pedophile that touched my kid brother several years ago._

_For what Beady did to me, I would have knocked him out. The moment he touched Sam, he was getting his lungs ripped out. Now, watching him threaten the teen, watching his arm restricting the younger boy, watching the broken expression on my kid's face, now I knew the bastard needed to die._

" _Let him go." I demanded, advancing forward, but stopping abruptly when the barrel of my gun dug impossibly harder into Sam's temple, breaking his pale skin._

" _This is your doing, son. I would've left the boy alone, even offered to let you keep the cash." He stated, his frustration coming across loud and clear._

_I immediately dug into my pocket, pulling out the bills and holding them out._

" _You can have it. Take it all. Just let him go." I kept a hard edge to my voice, but I still sounded like I was pleading, my own ears picking up easily on the desperation in my tone._

_Beady must have noticed as well, because his face brightened in glee._

" _I don't want the money." He announced, his eyebrows rising as he emphasized the last word, making it clear that he did want something else._

_My stomach twisted in revulsion, but the only thing my eyes could see was the trickle of blood – the bright red in stark contrast with Sam's pasty complexion – trailing down my kid's face. All my heart wanted was to stop my little brother's pain._

" _I'll give you whatever you want, just let him go."_

_Beady's sick grin grew, and Sam's eyes widened as a mortified expression dawned his features._

" _No! Dean. No, you can't!" He croaked out, fighting against the hold the larger man had of him._

_The bastard appeared furious as he gripped Sam harder, his arm unyielding around the teen's chest._

" _Stop it, Sam! Stop!" I ordered, watching Beady's finger twitch on the trigger._

" _Relax, kid. I'm sure you'll enjoy the show." He declared, his tone joking, but face wrinkled in mounting irritation._

_My gaze drifted between Beady's twitching appendage - my heart fluttering whenever I saw the trigger make the slightest move - and Sam's desperate struggle._

" _Sam, stop. Please."_

_I was trying to get him to settle before he ended up with a whole through his skull, but he shook his head, not seeming to care when it caused the barrel of the gun to nearly press into his eye socket._

" _No, Dean. Please don't let. Don't let him. Not for, me. Please, Dean. Please!"_

_Sam was practically hyperventilating. He was in a full-blown panic. I could see that Beady's patience had diminished, and I worried what that meant for Sam._

" _Stop fucking moving, kid. Or you won't get to watch. It don't matter if you're alive or dead, boy, I'm still taking what I want. And what I want right now, is that young man right there." Beady said, moving his hand off Sam's chest and onto the side of his face, forcing the kid's cheek next to his as they both stared in my direction._

_It was the wrong move on both counts. First off proclaiming a threat to me, and then removing his arm from where it had previously encircled Sam's chest, giving the teen more movement. Any normal person Sam's age would have remained still because of the gun pressed against their skull, but my brother was better trained and far more desperate than your average victim._

_Sam snapped his arm out, with quick and accurate speed, smacking the gun away just as it fired. The sound was deafening, but the bullet harmless as it shattered the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall. Before Beady or I had time to make our next move, Sam had already made his. He had the butterfly knife out from wherever it had been stowed away, and inside Beady's leg, in a matter of seconds._

_The older man shouted a string of curses as he was then shoved off balance, by my much smaller, much thinner, brother. He fell onto his back, his head connecting with the floor hard enough to daze him, but not knock him out. I was moving forward, to make for certain that the bastard didn't get up again any time soon, or ever. Sam beat me to it. He grabbed my Beretta from where Beady had dropped it during his decent. I reached for the weapon, assuming Sam was returning it to me, but he didn't even look in my direction. He moved to stand over the man still cursing on the floor, re-cocking the weapon in his hands and pointing it straight down into Beady's face._

" _Don't touch my brother! Don't ever touch him! I will kill you. I will_ _ **kill**_ _you for hurting him like that!"_

_I tried to speak, tried to intervene, but the breath was caught in my throat. I had never heard Sam scream like that, had never seen him tower over and threaten someone the way he was._

" _Hey, relax kid. I didn't hurt him."_

" _You did! You touched him. I saw you! You wanted to do more. You would have done more! You would have kept hurting him! I hate you! I fucking hate you!" Sam wailed. His thin body shaking, but arm steady as he pointed the gun at his intended target._

_I knew I had to act now, before it was too late. The teen was unravelling at the seams, and I knew he was a second away from blowing the bastard's head off. Not that I didn't want the sonunvabitch dead, hell, I had every intention of killing the sick fuck myself, but not Sammy. He was too good. He didn't deserve to ever have that kind of blood on his hands. Killing did things to you. Killing a human would take a part of my brother, steal away a piece of his soul, I knew that it would, and I would never allow it. I wouldn't ever let any human, especially some scumbag, damage my little brother like that._

" _Sam." I called out, cautiously stepping forward, careful not to spook him._

" _You're never going to touch him again! You're never going to hurt him! I won't let you." Sam cried out, his voice going hoarse from shouting, his stare filled with hate. The man on the floor was frozen and silent, I knew that he could also see the threat that Sam had just become, and he could spot the potential to kill shining in the hazel eyes. Content that the asshole wasn't going to make a move, I placed all my focus back on my crumbling kid brother._

" _Sam. It's okay. Look at me. Look at me, Sammy." I instructed softly, as I neared the kid, crouching down to enter his line of sight._

_He was hesitant, but eventually the teen's gaze met mine._

" _We're okay, Sa—_

" _No! It's not okay! He touched you. I saw him! He touched you and he scared you. I could see it!" Sam interrupted, shaking his head vehemently back and forth._

_Instinctively, I wanted to deny the idea that I had been frightened. I never let Sam see my fear, always going to great lengths to hide it from the kid. However, Sam knew me better than anyone, and often times I understood that I was only able to hide my fear, because he allowed it. That wasn't the case this time._

" _I know, buddy. But I'm okay now. You saved us. We're okay." I insisted, slowly stepping closer._

_Sam looked to the man at his feet, and then up at me, he eyes yoyoing back and forth until they finally settled on me. The hazel had lost the fire of rage, and was now glassed over with misery and unshed tears._

" _He was going to do things to you, make you do things to him. He was going to hurt you, Dean. Like I got hurt. He touched the way that..." He faded off, seemingly unable to speak of the event that haunted both our nightmares._

" _I know. I know, Sammy. But you stopped him! And he isn't ever gonna touch either of us again. Okay?" I declared, reaching out and resting my hand atop Sam's, gently nudging his finger off the trigger as I covered it with mine. He didn't relinquish his grip of the firearm._

_He just looked up at me, his two watering puppy dog eyes stared beseechingly into mine._

" _You promise, De?" He asked softly. Looking and sounding about half his age as he awaited my response._

" _Yeah, buddy. I promise. This bastard won't ever hurt you or me ever again."_

_Sam relaxed his stance, his muscles uncoiling, but his hold on the Beretta remained. His eyes shifted down to Beady, and I quickly slid my fingers beneath his chin and gently, but firmly turned his face back up to me. I didn't want the fear or ire to return._

" _Hey, I said he wouldn't hurt us. Have I ever lied to you?" I quirked a reassuring smile._

" _Yes."_

_I frowned, the answer not what I had been expecting. I opened my mouth, but Sam spoke before I could voice any inquiries._

" _You told me that the Easter Bunny was real."_

_There was a breath of silence before a surprised bark of laughter jumped from my throat. A dimple flashed on my brother's face, a crooked smile briefly gracing his features, If only the upward movement of his lips had been able to disguise the sorrow flowing from those soulful eyes._

_I smiled softly at my little brother, sliding my hand onto the back of Sam's neck, beneath his hair, and squeezed gently as I spoke._

" _Alright dude, I guess you got me there." I conceded._

_Sam's lips twitched again as he released the gun, allowing me to slide it out of his lax fingers. I took the weapon, keeping it trained on the man still laid out on the floor, as I squeezed Sam's neck once more before moving my arm to rest against my chest, in a hopeful effort to ease the searing pain radiating through my shoulder._

" _I need you to go wait over by the door for me, Sammy." I requested. I wanted him to wait outside, but wasn't ready to have the kid out of my sight yet, especially not if there were any more assholes still hanging around._

_Sam glanced between me, Beady, and the loaded firearm in my hand, and promptly shook his head._

_Damn kid._

" _Sam." I warned._

_He simply shook his head again. He was hurting, frightened, weary, and still stubborn as hell._

_I turned back to Beady, my eyes travelling over his uneasy expression, down to the weapon protruding from his leg. I leaned down and grabbed the handle of the knife._

_Beady barely had time to gasp, before I ripped the object from his leg._

_He screamed._

_I grinned._

_Sam flinched._

_I kept my eye on Beady, as I wiped the blade off on the bastard's jeans, smearing his blood over his pant leg. I flicked the blade closed and held it over my shoulder, keeping it there until I felt thin shaky fingers close around it and pull it away. I stood at full height again, sneering down at the man on the tile, rolling my eyes as he wheezed in pain. That bastard was soon to learn the meaning of pain._

_Sam could either hear my thoughts, or sense the tensing of my muscles._

" _Dean." He called, his voice timid, but demanding._

_I glanced back._

" _Let's just go." He said, giving me a level stare, his way of silently saying he knew what I was thinking, and he wasn't going to let me go through with it._

_I opened my mouth, prepared to argue. To list all the reasons the scumbag at our feet had to die. To explain exactly why I needed to kill him. I was prepared to kill him. I didn't give a fuck that he was human. I was more than willing to follow through with my body's urges, and end the fucker in a brutally violent manner. I was ready to hash it out with Sam, even disregard his request and send him from the room._

" _Dean, please. Come on, let's just go. Please." He repeated, reaching out and tugging at my jacket sleeve._

_I was ready to kill Beady, hell, I_ _**wanted** _ _to kill him. But I couldn't ignore my little brother's plea._

_I released an aggravated huff._

_I thought of threatening the man, of telling him exactly what would happen if he ever touched my kid again, but I knew there wasn't any point. Sam and I would be leaving this godforsaken town tonight, and there was no way in hell the bastard would ever get near my little brother again._

_Besides, the sonuvabitch really wasn't worth it._

_I put the threat into my glare, drilling it into the older man's eyes for a moment, before savagely bringing the Beretta down on top of his skull. I watched, satisfied when his body slumped and head crashed onto the tile._

_I looked at Sam, and could tell the kid was holding back a comment. He probably wanted to query the necessity of the vicious blow I had just delivered, but he knew better than to question me on dishing out pain to anyone who touched him. I think he also understood just how much I was holding back._

_We made our way out of the bathroom, the bar was empty, not a soul in sight. I didn't bother wondering why that was, figured one of the unconscious men owned the joint and ordered everyone out, or maybe they heard the commotion and decided to vacate. Regardless, no one was around, but I didn't release my hold on the firearm and Sam didn't let go of my jacket sleeve, until we were seated safely inside the Impala._

_We drove back to the motel (nothing sobered you up faster than watching your little brother almost get a bullet through his skull, besides, Sammy was too shocked and shaky to be trusted behind the wheel) and packed our things in silence, neither of us speaking a word until we had driven out of town. I had no idea where we were going, just figured I would drive until exhaustion took over, and then we would find a place to rest. I would use the money I had shoved back into my pocket to pay for a nice hotel. One of those ones with elevators, full of families on vacation and business men, rather than the sketchier clientele we were accustomed to._

_I wanted Sam to feel safe._

" _I was going to kill him."_

_The whispered confession infiltrated the quiet and snagged my attention._

_I glanced to my right, my heart clenching at the despair that shadowed my little brother's face. I moved my eyes back to the road, pretending it was because I needed to be a responsible driver, and not because my soul couldn't stand the sight of Sam's brokenness._

" _I know." I answered softly, because I had never seen Sam more ready to kill than he had been tonight. And we were hunters, so that was saying something._

_Sam made no response, but I could feel the shame radiating off of him. That was not okay. The teen had done nothing wrong. He had nothing to be ashamed of._

" _He almost killed you, Sammy. If you had shot him, it would have been self-defense. It wouldn't have made you a killer."_

_Because I knew that was what he was thinking. That was what had him all twisted up inside._

_I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked over to see the teen's shaggy head sliding from side-to-side._

" _It wasn't self-defense." He muttered._

" _Sam." I sighed. "He was going to kill you. It would have been the definition of self-defense."_

_Before I even finished speaking, he was already shaking his head again._

" _But I wasn't going to kill him for what he did to me. I was going to kill him for what he did to you." He explained, his doe-eyes shifting away from where they had been absently staring out the windshield, and moving to rest on me._

" _He barely touched me." I scoffed._

" _But he did. And he was going to do worse." He argued. "A lot worse." He added in a fearful whisper._

_I frowned, glancing between Sam and the road. I couldn't much argue that. We both knew what that sonuvabitch's intentions had been._

" _I don't ever want anyone to hurt you, especially not like that. And when I thought he was going to…it was like - like I.."_

_He stuttered out, searching for a word he couldn't seem to find._

" _Snapped." I supplied._

_Sam nodded, accepting the description as sufficient._

" _I was so mad. So angry. I could have killed him. And I don't even think I would have regretted it." He finished with a sigh, which sounded far more like resignation than the self-recrimination I had been expecting._

_I could tell he was troubled by the realization. I knew from personal experience how unsettling it could be when you recognized the lines you would cross, the things you would kill, to protect your family. But he seemed very near at peace with it, another feeling I understood._

_I had no words of wisdom to offer. No knowledge to share or reassurances to dole out._

_I made to reach across the bench seat, intending to wrap my arm around a pair of skinny shoulders, when I remembered my messed up joint. Pain lanced through the right side of my body, I hissed in reaction, tucking the limb up against my chest, waiting out the fire in my nerves._

" _Shit! Dean, you're hurt! You shouldn't be driving." Sam admonished, his hand already reaching for the wheel, I quickly swatted it away._

" _Neither should you."_

" _I'm not hurt."_

" _You might want to try that line on someone who didn't just put butterfly bandages on your temple, or put ice on your face. And don't think that I didn't notice the bruises all up your arms." I pointed out, inwardly seething at the purple finger-shaped marks spotting the teen's skinny wrists and forearms._

" _Yeah well, I'm the one who wiped the blood off your lip and checked out the welt on the back of your head! I would have looked at your godamned shoulder too, if you hadn't been in such a rush!"_

" _Sam, buddy, calm down. I'm fine. You made sure of it. You practically strip-searched me." I commented with a smirk. The teen had been scouring me for injuries the second I had finished tending to his._

" _You shouldn't be driving with your fucking shoulder as messed up as it is! You should have taken time to rest it or let me take care of it, instead of running all over the place!"_

_The anger was a little surprising, but I knew Sam was emotionally drained and worried, which was always a potentially volatile combination. I also knew better than to argue with the teen, it would do nothing but aggravate him._

_I sent the kid a disarming look, speaking calmly. "I know, Sammy. I just wanted to get out of that place."_

_Sam dropped the anger, but the worry lining his forehead remained present._

_The teen's head cocked to the side, his eyes squinting in thought, before he abruptly turned around and reached into the backseat. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to see what he was searching for, but it was too dark to tell and the curving road demanded my attention._

_A moment later, Sam's bruised forearm flashed across my sightline as he draped something over my neck._

_I wanted to see what exactly the kid was up to, but we were driving down a windy, unlit, back road, and curing my curiosity wasn't worth denting my baby. It would have been an unnecessary risk anyhow, because soon I felt tentative fingers manipulate my right arm. I tensed at the movement, preparing for the pain, but found it to be entirely unnecessary. I felt nothing more than a small twinge of discomfort, as the limb was maneuvered into the sling and the strap was adjusted ever so slightly, so that my arm rested in the most comfortable position. Sam made the entire process shockingly painless._

_Sam was consistently careful. I always preferred his doctoring over our dad's. John was skilled and efficient, but his touch was rough and hasty. When necessary, Sam worked with the same urgency, but he was always gentle, even when setting a dislocation or placing pressure on a wound, his touch was still tender. It wasn't a learned talent, there was simply a gentleness ingrained in, Sammy, there always had been. It was an ever-present trait, one that followed the kid wherever he went, even on a hunt. The only time I hadn't been able to spot his tender nature, was just a short while ago, in that godforsaken bathroom. It was the first time in my little brother's life, where he had seemed absolutely lethal. He had known how to kill for quite some time, known how to fight for years; he possessed the ability to be fatal for the majority of his life, but his gentle nature had always prevailed, even been his more dominant trait…with the exception of whatever had gone down in that bar. I didn't know if it was the trauma, the memory of an even more helpless situation from his past, or the threat to me – okay, maybe I did know what it was that made him snap – either way, it was the first time I had ever seen the gentle teen behave viciously._

_It was the first time Sam hadn't seemed anything at all like himself._

_That was the danger of family, I supposed._

_Family mattered so much that you would do anything to protect them._

_You would bargain away anything._

_Sacrifice anything._

_Kill anything._

_You would give up your life for family._

_But more than that, you would lose yourself in the fight to protect those who you couldn't do without._

_I had always known that to be true for me, but for the first time, I realized it was true for Sam as well._

_My heart swelled with pride and clenched in anguish, all at once._

_I didn't want Sam to ever have to give up anything or sacrifice anything, especially not for me. However, I could never ask my little brother to be less than he was; to love me less than he did, or less than I loved him. Not to mention, if I ever voiced such a thought, the kid would slug me._

" _That any better?" He asked, after adjusting the sling._

" _Yeah. It's great. Thanks, Sammy." I replied, ignoring the slight croak in my voice, as I failed to hide the emotional state my mind was in._

_I should have known better. Sam easily caught on to my tone, his brow furrowing in concern._

" _You need meds." He decided, clearly assuming the catch in my voice was the result of pain._

" _No, I'm good."_

" _You're not. You're in pain."_

_I didn't bother denying it._

" _You know those pills make me go spacey." I reasoned._

" _I could drive." Sam responded distractedly as he rifled through the glove compartment._

" _I don't want them. They make me all confused and shit. Just leave it, Sam."_

_Sam pulled a med bottle out. I watched him from the corner of my eyes, he struggled to untwist the lid for a moment, his hands were still shaking; they had been since we left the bar. He shook two pills into his open palm, and then reached down to fish a bottle of water out from under his seat. Offering them both over to me._

" _Are you listening to me?" I asked, annoyance mounting._

" _Relax, dude. It's Advil. I'm pretty sure that won't mess with your mind." He declared with an exaggerated roll of his eyes._

_I huffed an amused laugh, tossing the pills into my mouth and accepting the water to chase them down with._

_Sam took the bottle back from my hands, pouring some out onto a napkin, which he used to scrub at my sling._

" _What are you doing?"_

" _There's blood on it." He mumbled._

_I nodded, that sounded about right._

" _Thanks for grabbing it." I said, figuring that Sam must have snatched it up off the floor before we left the bathroom._

_I glanced to my right, seeing Sam shrug in reply as he continued to scrub away at the stained fabric._

_That was my little brother. Amidst the trauma of the night, after being hit and threatened, he remembered to grab my fucking sling off the ground before escaping the hell we had been trapped in. After all that happened to him, the memories his mind was likely forcing him to relieve, he was still thinking of me. Not only did he somehow remember the sling, he was tremendously bothered by the blood that had gotten on to it, and was furtively working to get it off._

_I could tell by the increasing speed of the scrubbing, that Sam was getting frustrated with the unrelenting stain._

" _It's fine, Sam. Just leave it." I stated, attempting to shrug the kid off without moving too much._

_I slid my eyes off the road in time to see that shaggy head moving right to left, as my brother continued to attack the red blemish._

_My expression pinched in confusion. We Winchesters had a shit-ton experience with blood stains, and we all knew that they rarely came out of clothing. So, why was Sam being so insistent?_

" _Dude, it's not my favourite shirt, or anything. It's just a sling." I pointed out._

_Sam gave no reaction, except to keep cleaning._

_I forced my eyes back on the road, trying to figure out what was going on with the teen, when I heard a sniff next to me. My eyes flashed back over, just in time to see Sam wipe a shaky hand over his eyes, as his other scrubbed fruitlessly against the fabric of my sling._

_I immediately pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, putting it in park, but leaving it running so we both didn't freeze to death in the winter weather. Sam didn't alter his focus in the least, not even when I shifted in my seat to get a better look at him._

" _Sam, stop." I ordered._

_Typical to his nature, the youngest Winchester paid no mind to the demand. He just kept working away at the stain we both knew had no hope of being removed. I could hear his intermittent sniffles, and watched as he swiped at his eyes a few more times. Although, his bangs hid the majority of his face from my searching gaze. I often thought that was Sam's reason for keeping his hair long the way it was, to make my job as his big brother that much more difficult; and, perhaps, to hide from a world that was constantly trying to break him._

_When the incessant scrubbing became even more frantic, I knew it was time to put an end to it._

" _Sam, buddy, that's enough." I stated, my unrestrained hand reaching out and closing around my little brother's thin fingers. Sam fought my hold, working to tug his hand and the napkin free._

" _Dean, let me go! I have to get it clean!" He argued, still refusing to look up at me._

" _Why? Why are you so set on cleaning it?" I questioned, my grip on the teen's hands unrelenting as I ducked down to try and get a glimpse of those hazel eyes underneath all that damn hair. Sam's eyes had always been a roadmap to his soul, and while few people knew how to read them, I was an expert._

" _Because there's blood on it!" He snapped back, pointing out the obvious._

" _Yeah, dude, I got that. If I had known you had such a passion for stain-removal, I would have made you do the laundry last week." I mocked playfully._

_My teasing soothed Sam enough that he stopped fighting my hold, but he still wouldn't look at me, and I really needed to see those puppy-dog eyes of his. I released my brother's trembling fingers, relieved when they didn't immediately return to the bloody-blemish on my sling. I slid my hand around to the back of Sam's neck, rhythmically sliding my thumb over the soft skin, and squeezing comfortingly._

" _Look at me, Sam." I requested, almost pleadingly._

_Sam made me wait, but eventually his head lifted and a pair of tear-filled hazel eyes climbed up to meet mine._

_My heart shattered at the absolute anguish imprinted on the young face. He was just a kid. A good, honest, kind, smart, amazing kid. He shouldn't have to deal with so much, shouldn't have to carry so much._

_Somehow my baby brother had become the world's punching bag._

_And that really wasn't fucking okay with me._

" _What's going on, kiddo?" I asked, focussing my attention back on the matter at hand, my little brother's new-found OCD._

" _I don't want to remember." He answered after a moment, his voice cracking._

_I pulled my hand out from the back of Sam's neck, and swiftly thumbed away the few tears that had escaped and were trailing down his cheeks, pretending that the sight of them wasn't like a dagger through my chest._

_I returned my hand to its resting place beneath my brother's hair at the back of his neck, before speaking. "Sam, after tonight, how could you not remember what happened to you—_

" _Not to me."_

_The unconscious movement of my thumb across my brother's skin halted at the comment._

_Sam must have sensed my confusion, because he continued._

" _The blood on your sling. It reminds me of what happened to you. It makes me think of them hurting you, and tou-touching you. I can't stop thinking of what he was going to do to you."_

_The teen hiccupped and choked out the explanation, tears streaming down his face as he sucked in a stuttered breath._

" _I just know that every time I see that blood on your sling, I'm going to have to remember what did happen and what else could have happened. And I don't want to keep doing that for the next three weeks." Sam finished, his voice faded to practically a whisper as he began to chew on his bottom lip._

" _You're unbelievable." I commented._

_Sam frowned, looking defensive, not understanding what I was getting at._

" _You just went through hell, again, and you're upset because of what that asshole did to me?" I marvelled aloud._

_Sam's frown quickly morphed from one of offense to one of outrage._

" _Why wouldn't I be? Weren't you upset when I was a kid and you walked in on that guy feeling me up? Didn't that upset you?" Sam snapped._

_I was dumbstruck for a moment. The almost flippant way the kid had brought up the past, sent my mind reeling. I opened and closed my mouth a couple times, trying to form a response._

" _Did it upset you?" Sam nearly shouted, his face moving closer to mine._

" _You know it did." I answered, honestly, keeping my voice low and calm, wanting to counter my little brother's mounting emotions._

" _So when someone hurts me it is okay for you to be upset, but when some jackass pervs all over you, I should be totally okay with it, right? 'Cause I'm just the selfish little brother who doesn't give a shit about anyone else, who doesn't see or care about anyone else's pain. Right?"_

_I may have been shocked speechless a few times that night, and while I found Sam's tangent shocking, I was anything but speechless._

" _Hey! Whoah. Hold the fuck up! What the hell are you going on about?" I hollered, regretting the volume of my outburst upon seeing Sam flinch._

_My brother quickly recovered from his involuntary display of fear, but made no move to speak. He sat impossibly still, his eyes falling to stare at the fingers he was twisting in his lap._

" _Is that what you think? That I see you as some selfish little brat?"_

_Sam did not grace my question with a verbal response, he simply shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip, which was as much of an answer as any vocal declaration could have been._

_My anger died as suddenly as it had arrived._

" _Sammy, how could you think that?" I inquired softly, placing my hand on the side of his face, tracing my thumb along his too-prominent cheek bone, as I directed his face up towards me._

_The broken stare that eventually met mine, was almost too much for me to handle._

" _How could you not?" Sam croaked dejectedly, with tears shimmering in his hazel eyes. "You're always making sacrifices for me. You wouldn't have even gone to that bar tonight if it weren't for me. You wouldn't have gotten hurt or threatened."_

_I shook my head, because Sam wasn't making any damn sense._

" _I went to the bar because we needed money. You're not the only one who needs to eat, Sam." I stated, nearly sarcastic._

_My kid's ability to blame himself for everything and anything, drove me insane._

" _You weren't the reason those assholes wanted to kick my ass, and you sure as hell weren't the reason that that perverted-fuck felt me up."_

_Sam cringed at my wording, a full body shiver rattling his thin frame._

" _You know what you are, Sam?"_

_It killed me how the teen shrunk at the question, as though he were preparing to be scolded or berated._

" _You are the reason I didn't have it a lot worse tonight."_

_Sam frowned at my remark, his head tilting to the side, as he squinted in apparent confusion._

" _Dude, I thought we were cooked. I was grasping at straws to try and get us out of there. You didn't care when he went after you, when you were shoved around, taunted, and threatened. You looked like you had shut down, but the second that twisted sonuvabitch came after me, you jumped into action. You went Rambo on their asses. And you saved both of us, but I know that you did it for me. You took those guys down for my sake, not yours. There ain't nothing selfish about that, Sam."_

_Sam looked up at me, appearing all of freakin five with his big puppy dog eyes peeking out underneath a curtain of hair. His hazel eyes held disbelief along with a shimmer of timid hope._

_I moved in closer, returning my hand to the back of his neck, sliding my fingers through his soft brown locks, as I steadily returned his gaze._

" _You saved us, Sammy. You saved me." I repeated, keeping my expression open and honest, letting the love pour into my eyes, as a gentle grin pulled at my lips. Sam was the only person who was allowed to see that look, it was one reserved solely for him._

_Sam searched my face, I didn't know what he was looking for, but he must have found it, because a short moment later the creases lining his pale skin vanished and a shy smile brought out his dimples. I leaned in, pressing my forehead down against Sam's. Feeling him press back as we rested together for a moment._

" _Selfish." I huffed, rolling my head against my brother's, feeling his bangs tickle my face. "Where the hell do you come up with this shit?!"_

_Sam breathed out a soft chuckle, his hand rising to rest over my heart, fingers walking along my chest, until they landed on the string tied around my neck. He followed the black cord, tugging it up from where it lay beneath my shirt, pulling the amulet from its hiding spot, and gripping it in his fingers. My heart filled, as I felt Sam's body relax while he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the face of the ugly charm._

_Fuck, I loved this kid._

" _You almost made a deal tonight, to save me. Don't ever do that."_

_I sighed, attempting to move back so I could see Sam's face properly, but he refused to release his hold on the amulet, pulling it tighter to keep me from moving away._

" _I wasn't going to do anything, Sam. I just had to buy us more time."_

_It was Sam's turn to shake his head, our foreheads rubbing together._

" _Doesn't matter. Don't ever make a deal like that for me. I'm not worth it."_

_That had me pulling back, ignoring the tug of the black cord around my neck. I noticed Sam_ _'s reluctance to release the gold charm._ _He looked down, clearly having kept us so close to avoid having to make eye contact. His words made me angry, his apparent disregard for his life made me furious, but Sam had never responded to anger or frustration, something our father had yet to figure out._

_A took a deep breath, calming the storm inside myself._

" _You see, Sammy, that's where you're wrong. You're always worth it to me." I stated simply, my green eyes finding his, so that he would be able to see the truth inside them._

_The kid was worth fucking everything._

_And I couldn't believe that after all the years, he still didn't get that. But this was neither the time nor the place to drill that into him._

_Sam released a long-suffering sigh, as though_ _**I** _ _was the one not getting it._

" _Just promise me you won't do it again."_

_I resisted the urge to just smack the teen._

" _Fine, I won't make any deals, if you promise never to put yourself in danger again like you did tonight. Never take on a psycho who has a gun to your head, just to save me." I stated, because two could play at that game._

_Sam glared at me, not appreciating the compromise. If the teen was going to make unreasonable demands of me, I was more than happy to return the favour._

_Sam rolled his eyes, acting like I alone was guilty of petulant behaviour._

" _Whatever." He dismissed, turning back to face the windshield and shifting further to his side of the bench-seat, his arms crossed._

_I smirked, reminded quickly that Sam was no longer a doe-eyed child, but an angsty teenager._

_We couldn't have been back on the road for more than a minute, before I felt eyes on me. I glanced to my right to see Sam staring at my sling, again._

" _Do you want me to take it off?" I offered genuinely. I would have suggested to just make one out of a shirt, but a shoulder sling was different from an arm sling, and the support wasn't quite the same when it was home-made. But I was more than willing to go through the drive in mild discomfort, if it took that wrecked expression off my little brother's face._

_Sam scowled at my suggestion._

" _Don't be an idiot." He grumbled, tearing his eyes from the stain, and forcing them elsewhere._

" _Sam-_

" _Dean, you heard the doctor. You're not supposed to take that off for three more weeks, and after the way it was treated tonight, that timeline probably just doubled." Sam announced, glancing my way, his voice hard against compromise, but soft with sympathy._

_I made no comment, both our heads turning forward again. The only sound filling the Impala was her soothing rumble and the whistling of the cold wind blowing outside. I kept my tunes off, partly because it would make everything seem too normal, and the night we just had was far from normal. I was also hoping that perhaps Sam would fall asleep, but I knew better. Sam would fight sleep tonight, he would fight it until his body betrayed him. Once sleep finally won over, the nightmares would arrive. The next week would be full of them. They would be ruthless, stealing away my little brother's much needed rest, and peace of mind. I would do everything I could to make it better. I would spend nights awake with him when the horrors of his mind terrified him too much for him to dare going back to sleep. I would hold him when the memories became too powerful and the fear over took all rational thought. I would lie next to him clinging as hard to him as he would cling to me, in his desperate need to feel safe again._

_I would do whatever it took to make things better for Sam._

" _When we stop for the night, we'll find something to cover up the blood."_

_Sam nodded at the suggestion, a quirk of a grin displaying his appreciation for the compromise. That quirk wasn't enough though, I needed a smile._

" _You really still pissed about the Easter Bunny?" I questioned._

_Finally, I was rewarded with laughter, though it was strained, it was still happy, and that would be enough for now._

" _Yes! Dean, I believed in it way longer than any other kid. All my classmates always thought I was nuts. I was so certain it was real, because there was no way my big brother would ever lie to me." Sam responded, sounding equal parts joyful and exasperated._

_I laughed in response._

" _Damn, you were just such a gullible little kid."_

_Sam playfully smacked my leg, still grinning as he rolled his eyes and turned to stare out the window._

_I smiled, glad I could do something to diminish the misery from those hazel eyes, even if it were just for a moment._

_I would deal with the nightmares._

_I would handle the anger and despair the memories would bring about._

_I would toss away my favourite handgun, so neither of us would ever have to look at the damn thing again._

_I would even proudly sport the giant Hello Kitty sticker that Sam would find at the hotel, and gleefully press over the stain on my sling._

_I would do it all for Sam, without a second's thought._

_And I knew now that Sammy would do the same for me, which was both a comfort and a fear._

The memory dissolved as I felt my belt being undone.

"Let go of him! Let go of him now! I will **kill** you, you bastard. I will kill you!" Sam screamed, his chair trembling from the force of his fight.

The older man was still startled by Sam's vicious outburst, but it didn't keep his fat fingers from thumbing open the button of my jeans.

"Don't be angry, Sammy. I just want Dean to enjoy your film as much as I do." He explained, as though it were the most reasonable thing on the planet, and not the most vile.

"Don't worry, Dean. I'll replay the good parts." He added with a whisper, directly into my ear, as he slid my zipper down.

I shuddered, gagging, my body physically repulsed by the comment and the horrifying reality behind it.

"Stop it! Stop it now! Don't fucking touch him!" Sam wailed. His voice still enraged, but eyes filling and body shaking as desperation bled through the vicious exterior.

"Sam." I called out, ignoring the crack in my own voice.

My brother's eyes frantically met mine.

"It's okay." I told him.

He shook his head rapidly side-to-side.

I bit back a gasp as a chubby, sweaty hand shoved its way into my jeans. I fought to keep my eyes on Sam, wanting to provide reassurance even as horror filled the young man's face.

Just as a couple fingers began to slither beneath the waistband of my boxers, when Sam shouted out.

"You can have me!"

The declaration was loud, and it caused the hand beneath my pants to still, as the head that had been bent next to mine, shot up to stare at my brother. The sounds from the television were all that could be heard for a moment. I could hear a young Sam sobbing softly and a younger me working to sooth the child. I didn't need to look at the screen to know what moment was playing out, and I didn't dare tear my gaze from my brother.

Sam quickly realized he had out captor's attention, and jumped on the opportunity.

"Do whatever you want to me. I won't fight it. Just don't touch him."

My heart jumped into my throat.

"No, Sam." I choked out.

Sam paid me no mind, his pleading eyes focussed on the older man.

"I want a reenactment."

Sam and I both frowned at the statement.

"Of that." The bastard clarified, nodding toward the television screen.

Sam's face drained of all colour, as his thin frame trembled. An Iron vice secured itself around my lungs, I couldn't seem to gather or release a single ounce of air.

He couldn't be asking what I thought he was asking.

It couldn't be true.

And Sam would never agree to it.

Would never go along with this sick-fuck's little game.

He would never do that just to save me from being misused.

He woudn't.

But he would.

I could deny it all I wanted, but I knew Sam would do _anything_ to keep me from having to suffer the same thing he did all those years ago.

He would give anything.

Sacrifice anything.

Offer anything.

He would do whatever it took to keep me from being hurt.

To keep me from living his nightmare.

But I couldn't let him.

I had let Sam get hurt like that once, I wasn't about to fail my kid again.

Not ever again.

* * *

Note: See? I told you it would hurt. I tried to make up for my absence by making this chapter insanely long...actually I didn't do it on purpose but it still happened so let's pretend it was intentional. I would love a review/comment, it would just be nice to know that all my tears weren't for nothing and someone is still reading this fic. If you are just going to comment to tell me to update faster though...don't bother. If I had more time to spend on the hobby that I love, I assure you I would update all the time, but I have two jobs and an insane family...so I am often quite short on time. It is honestly amazing I get any writing done at all. I never forget any of my fics, so have some patience and I promise I will get to the one you are waiting for. Telling me to write faster is - shockingly - the least motivating comment you could possibly leave. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you like it so far! - Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment? Maybe? - Sam


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